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BLUFFTON 


A STORY OF TO-DAY, 



M. J. SAVAGE. 

II 



BOSTON: 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
NEW YORK: 

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 

1878. 




i 


Copyright, 1878, 

By lee and SHEPARD. 


Franklin Press: 
Electrotyped and Printed by 
Rand, Asiery, &• Co., 
Boston. 




NOTE. 


The incidents of this story are chiefly facts. This is 
specially true of those things that may to some readers 
appear forced or exaggerated. The facts, however, do not all 
belong to any one place, nor to the experience of any one per- 
son. 

The people who live in Bluffton will doubtless recognize 
some touches of local scenery ; but, if they look to find the 
characters among their friends and neighbors, they will most 
certainly be mistaken. 

By bringing out in strong relief some of the evils of one 
phase of religion, and some of the good of the opposite, the 
writer would not be understood to assert that the evil is all 
on one side and the good all on the other. He has simply 
emphasized those things that were essential to his present 
purpose. Good and evil are both human., and not confined to 
any one religious type. 

May, 1878. 


3 


CONTENTS, 


I. 

At the Levee 7 

II. 

On the Steamer 14 

III. 

Retrospect 23 

IV. 

First Sunday at Bluffton 30 

V. 

To THE Cave 39 

VI. 

The Convalescence -52 

VII. 

Other Strands in the Thread 61 

VIII. 

Mark and Tom talk 72 

IX. 

A Game of Croquet, and Who won 84 

X. 

The Minister in His Work . 96 

5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


XL 

Underground Rumblings 104 

XII. 

Mr. Forrest and Mrs. Grey 112 

XIII. 

A Soul come to Judgment 123 

XIV. 

The Offence 134 

XV. 

Madge entreats 146 

XVI. 

A Terrible Suspicion 156 

XVII. 

An Exchange at Maple City 162 

XVIII. 

The Council 174 

XIX. 

Tom Speaks 186 

XX. 

The Broken Ring 156 

XXL 

Reconsideration 208 

XXII. 

The Revenge of Slighted Love 219 

XXIII. 

Adrift 229 

XXIV. 


A Strange Meeting . 


238 


BLUFFTON: 


A STORY OF TO-DAY. 


I. 


AT THE LEVEE. 



HY do you call it Maple City ? ” said Mark, as, after 


V * an hour’s walk about the town, he and his friend 
Tom were slowly strolling down the street — cut through 
the bluff — that led to the levee. 

“ Oh ! I don’t know,” replied Tom, unless it may be for 
the reason that the place isn’t a city, and hasn’t a maple-tree 
in its limits. AsTeo; the matter of names, you know all the 
towns East have a Spruce Street, and a Pine Street, and gen- 
erally there isn’t a spruce or a pine in sight. Perhaps the 
mental suggestion has some shade and comfort in it.” 

“ And as for your cities, Tom, I understand that all cross- 
roads are cities out here.” 

‘‘Yes,” said he, “just as the peddler shouted ‘ Hot pies ! ’ 
because that was ‘ what they called ’em.’ They name to^vns 
here on the same principle that mothers christen their chil- 
dren George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, — seem- 


7 


8 


BLUFFTON, 


ing to have the notion that the quality of the name will 
somehow strike in, and make Congressmen out of ’em 
some day.” 

“Towns grow so fast,” replied Mark, “that I suppose 
they want the name big enough to cover the future. Now, I 
am assured by the committee from Bluffton that the place will 
at least double in five years. And if they get the Great 
Central Railroad, for which this and all the neighboring 
places are fighting, they will even double on that.” 

“‘They all do it,’ ” drolly replied Tom. “All the places 
are going to double in three to five years. But, if some of 
them don’t ‘ flat out ’ on their expectations, they’ll have to 
import the inhabitants of the neighboring planets to furnish 
people enough. And then, as to railroads, they seem to 
overlook one thing, — that it is just as easy to get out of 
town on a new road as it is to get in, and that people may 
leave as well as come.” 

“But, at any rate,” said Mark, “it indicates the young 
blood, the vigor, the hope, of a great nation whose life is 
ahead, a prophecy, and not a page in history illustrated by 
ruins. A burly, growing boy is always extravagant : he 
always wants the biggest boots and trousers he can get, be- 
cause he feels the undeveloped man in him, and wants to 
appear like one. Little old men I never took to anyhow. 
The boy who is forty years old at thirteen will be too tame 
for usefulness by the time he is thirty, and ought to be 
buried at thirty-five. So I say. Hail to the awkward but 
irrepressible vigor of the New West.” 

“ Well,” said Tom, “ you’ve made your peroration just in 


AT THE LEVEE. 


9 


time ; for there is the smoke of the steamer rising just over 
the point yonder, and you’ll hear your first Mississippi whis- 
tle in a moment.” 

The two young men now stood on the levee. The Rev. 
Mark Forrest, after a year or two of outpost duty, now, at 
the age of twenty-five, was on his way to take charge of an 
evangelical church at Blulfton, a “ city ” some miles farther 
down the river. Tom was an old school-friend, five years 
his senior, who, taking to business, had gone West, made 
and lost one or two fortunes, married, and with his Western 
wife and two bright children, was now living at Maple City. 
Mark, who had never seen the Mississippi before, had tele- 
graphed his friend to meet him for the hour between the 
arrival of the train and the time for the steamer on her 
down trip. He had met the church committee in the 
East, and, after consultation, had consented to go out like 
Abraham, “ not knowing whither he went.” And here he 
was so far on his way. His trunk and small library had 
been sent on by express, so that he stood with only his 
travelling-bag in his hand. As it was Saturday, and he must 
preach his first sermon to his new people on the following 
day, he could only pay his friend this flying visit on the way. 
They could now, being so near each other, tie up the bro- 
ken threads of their old intimacy at their leisure. 

And now the steamer, rounding the headland, swept into 
full view, at the same time sending out an unearthly scream, 
as if to strike terror into the heart of the western wilds, and 
give the woods warning of the speedy approach of the rail- 
road and the steam-plough. To Mark, who had seen only 


10 


BLUFFTON, 


ocean-steamers before, she was a new sensation. A tall pole 
tipped with a gilded ball rose into the air from the extreme 
end of her bow ; two smoke-stacks, high above every thing 
else, belched out enormous volumes of black, soft-coal 
smoke, that floated lazily on the still, bright June air; a 
black mass of men, relieved by the gayer colors of the 
women, crowded fonvard on the shoreward side. She looked 
all decks and cabins and saloons ; while the bow end of her 
low hulk was piled up with bales and boxes and barrels, 
sprinkled all over which were the tow-colored rags and 
ebony faces of the “ roustabouts,” whose business it was to 
“ tote ” the freight aboard and ashore. 

“ Well, what do you think of her, Mark? ” said Tom. 

“ I think,” replied Mark, “ that a party of friends on an 
outdoor boat like this, floating on such a glassy river, and 
through such a perfect air, and under such a soft sky, drifting 
on through sweeps of wide prairie, and along dark woods, 
and past bright young towns, might easily fancy themselves 
to have found the ‘ earthly paradise ’ with modern improve- 
ments. As I’m in no hurry to get aboard, let’s stand here, 
and see the people, and the process of landing.” 

The steamer now headed in toward the shore, and, with a 
grating noise on the bottom, ran her “ nose ” against the 
levee. The river-current caught the stem, and slowly swung 
her round until she rested quartering on the bank, and 
headed up stream. And now, as the planks were run out, 
belated hacks came tearing down the streets, carts rattled 
over the stones, and numberless “ men and brothers ” yelled 
on their bony steeds attached to their two-wheeled drays; 


AT THE LEVEE. 


II 


and others came with trunks, boxes, or casks on their shoul- 
ders, from the warehouses or the neighboring station. But, 
above all the noise of the crowd, one sound caught and 
fixed the attention of Mark : it was the stupendous swearing 
of the mate. He had witnessed displays of profanity before, 
so elaborate as to entitle them to rank as works of art ; but 
as he stood here, and saw him pile Ossa upon Pelion, beheld 
“ Alps on Alps arise,” and looked down into ya\vning gulfs 
of blasphemy, it seemed to him that here was a Titan play- 
ing with the gigantic upheavals of language, while ordinary 
men only walked along on the commonplace flats of the dic- 
tionary. Of course he was shocked ; but, while he was one 
who shrunk from every touch of irreverence, his sense of 
the ludicrous was so developed that sometimes the absurd- 
ity of a thing made him forget, for the time, its wickedness. 
Turning to Tom, he said, — 

“ Is that a specimen of Western ability in the profanity 
line?” 

“ Yes,” he replied with a shade of irony in his tone : “ in 
this glorious Western world you must expect to find the 
proportions of things maintained. The man, you see, is 
ambitious to have his swearing on the same magnificent scale 
as our ‘ mighty ’ rivers and our ‘ boundless ’ prairies.” 

“ But do they all swear like that ? Listen now ! It rattles 
through the clouds of his words like the jerk and crash of 
lightning in a thunder-storm.” 

“ All the mates do,” Toni replied : “ it seems to be their 
special business to swear at the deck-hands. They hurl 
oaths at thein if they were stones, and crack them over 


12 


BLUFFTON. 


the back with a sharp phrase as if it were the sting of a lash. 
They get so used to it, that I doubt if they would move at 
all if they were spoken to in ordinary language. They are 
like the old man’s oxen that we used to laugh about. You 
know they got so used to being sworn at, that, when the old 
fellow was converted, the only way he could get them along 
was to sit on the cross-board, and shout at them profane- 
sounding selections from the New Testament. So these 
fellows would ‘ slow up ’ till you couldn’t see them move, if 
he didn’t swear all the time.” 

But just here Mark’s eye caught sight of some one going 
up the plank, and in an instant the mate was forgotten. 

“Tom,” he said, “I’m in luck. There goes old Judge 
Hartley. Now, you see, I’m in for good company down 
the river.” 

“Judge Hartley,” said Tom: “ what brings him out here ? ” 

“ Oh ! I forgot to tell you that he has sold out East, and is 
moving to Bluffton. He’s going to be in my church.” 

“Then I pity you,” growled Tom. 

“Why?” briefly inquired Mark. 

“Why? Don’t you remember how in the old church at 
home he was always on the scent for heresy? He even 
suspected the old minister’s soundness in the faith. And 
now let me warn you beforehand, that, if you happen to 
learn any thing that hasn’t been in the old ‘Bodies of 
Divinity’ long enough to get rusty^ he’ll make it hot for 
you.” 

“ Oh ! but you’re too hard on him, Tom,” answered Mark. 
“ He’s just my idea of a typical Puritan ; neither better nor 


AT THE LEVEE. 


13 


worse. He’s sunny and sweet and kind in his home. But 
all his natural tenderness has been laid on what he thinks the 
altar of God. So it is a matter of duty with him to hate and 
fight any departures from orthodoxy. He’s of the stuff of 
which martyrs are made; and, being ready himself to die 
for God’s truth, his sense of duty would stifle all tenderness 
toward one that he looked upon as an enemy of divine reve- 
lation. But he’ll broaden a little out here, and we’ll get on 
capitally.” 

“Well, I hope so,” said Tom. “ But who was that young 
lady that followed the judge up the plank?” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Mark, “ unless it is one of his 
daughters. I haven’t seen them since they were girls.” 

“ Whoever it is, hurry up, Mark, for they are taking in the 
plank. Perhaps you’ll find light enough in the daughter to 
relieve the sombreness of the old judge.” 

“ Haven’t time to think of those things yet,” said Mark. 
“ But good-by : I’ll write after Sunday.” 

So saying, he leaped aboard. The bell had ceased ringing, 
and the boat swung off into the river. He stood a minute 
on the lower deck, as she swept out into the current ; and 
then went up the gangway to find the judge. 

Judge Hartley was a tall, close-shaven, gray-eyed man of 
sixty. Having once been a probate judge, the title still re- 
mained. Retired from active business with a competency, 
he had decided to move West, and make his future home 
near the residence of his only surviving brother. 


14 


BLUFFTON. 


II. 

ON THE STEAMER. 

M ark really thought — and no wonder; for older and 
wiser men have done the same before him — that his 
head and heart were too full of other things to have any 
room in them for love. He was going to study ; he was 
going to travel ; he was going to test himself, and find out 
what was in him and what he could do, and so make him- 
self a permanent footing somewhere, — before he allowed 
himself to think of a home. He would make himself and 
his position a worthy gift before he would presume to offer 
them to such a woman as he would love. He had not yet 
learned, that, though “ marriages of convenience ” are always 
in order, real love does not come at a beck, nor wait to be 
sent for. He knew not as yet that no head nor heart can 
be crammed so full but that love will find himself a place, 
and come in even though the doors are shut. 

So, while he looked after the judge, he found the beginning 
of a pain that would not let him* rest, and that yet he would 
not have been free from for all the study and travel and am- 
bitions of which he had dreamed since boyhood. While he 
thought he was only walking a common plank-deck, he, in 


ON THE STEAMER. 


15 


reality, stumbled across the threshold and through the gate- 
way of an enchanted “ castle in Spain,” where he was to 
find dungeons of darkness, and instruments of exquisite 
torture, as well as galleries of pictures, halls of song, and 
lofty towers of vision. 

Stepping into the saloon long enough to register his name, 
pay his fare, and leave his satchel at the office, he passed 
out on to the forward deck. Leaning against the starboard 
rail, he stopped entranced with the beauty of the scene ; for 
it seemed to him that he had walked into a waking dream. 
It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. The right bank 
of the river was a continuous wood-crowned bluff. The 
river itself at this point curved south-east, so that the sun 
seemed caught in the ragged tops of the trees straight 
ahead. What would have been its unbearable brightness in 
the open sky was broken into a golden mist and spray 
among the branches, as sometimes the falling waters of a cas- 
cade are turned into a sort of impalpable cloud of glory by 
jagged rocks and the height of their fall. .The river was a 
veritable “ sea of glass.” The air was mellow and soft, and 
spread over the scene a saffron-colored haze that seemed 
the stuff of which dreams are made. For the moment 
every thing was still save the distant murmur of voices and 
the plash of the paddle-wheels, that only seemed to deepen 
the silence. 

The steamer drifted so softly that it was almost like float- 
ing in air. There was in his mind a curious blending of 
memory and anticipation. His home, his childhood, and 
his old life were behind ; and he was drifting on into a future 


i6 


BLUFFTON. 


of unspeakable glory. This was the Mississippi, and around 
him was a new world. He was in the boat of De Soto j and 
just around that headland yonder would spring into view the 
fadeless beauty of the “ earthly paradise ” that the eager 
Spanish eyes so looked for in this strange, far-off land. And 
these fancies melted into the visions of the seer of Patmos. 
The river of life, and the mystic trees, and the sea of 
crystal, and the blinding glory, were blended with the 
landscape. He gazed straight on into the light ; and with 
his eyes half closed, and lost in thought, the illusion was 
complete. Had a traditional Bible angel floated silently 
across the glory, he would hardly have roused from his brief 
revery ; for it would have been a part of his dream. But 
what he did see startled him into a confused self-conscious- 
ness. Turning his head a little, as he became aware of a 
presence near him, he found himself looking straight into 
the face of what seemed to him the most beautiful girl he 
had ever looked upon. He had read of such in poem and 
romance ; but he had never yet believed that there was in 
flesh and blood a face and form like this. In one rapid 
glance, — in less time than it takes to tell it, — he took in 
the fact that her figure was faultless, her dress so perfect as 
to be forgotten, her face oval in shape and brunette in com- 
plexion. Her heavy masses of hair were black, as were the 
long lashes that shaded her eyes ; and her eyes themselves 
were liquid and deep, like the bottomless lakes that lie tree- 
fringed at the feet of lofty mountains. 

He had only time to note these particulars, and to accuse 
himself of rudeness for thus staring in the face of a stran- 


ON THE STEAMER. 


17 


ger, when, in a voice that betrayed only girlish unconscious- 
ness and the frank simplicity of a guileless nature, she said, — 
“ Isn’t this Mr. Forrest? ” 

There was a moment of confusion before he could fully 
believe that this human angel, that had so suddenly stepped 
out of his vision of glory, had really spoken to him ; but, 
seeing her look frankly in his face for reply, he answered, — 
“ Certainly, that is my name ; but you must pardon me if 
I do not remember you. I have never seen a face ” — “so 
beautiful as yours,” he just saved himself from saying ; and 
finished not very elegantly, by adding — “ like yours.” 

She recognized the broken and awkward phrase by a 
quizzical look, which soon passed, leaving only her simple 
unconsciousness once more, and added, — 

“Why, I thought you would know me. Have I really 
changed so much in six years? I am Margaret Hartley. 
You used to call me Madge when I was a little girl.” 

“ You really must forgive me for forgetting you,” said he. 
“ I was in a day-dream when I first caught sight of your 
face. If you hadn’t spoken, I fear I should have taken you 
for a part of my vision ; but, indeed, you have changed from 
the fly-away Madge I knew at school.” 

“Not for the worse, I hope,” said she; and then, without 
waiting for the reply that she knew courtesy at least would 
make complimentary, she continued, — 

“Perhaps I recognized you the more readily because 
father and I have been speaking of you. We knew to-mor- 
row was to be your first Sunday in Bluffton, and we were 
wondering what sort of minister you had grown to be. We 
are to be of your flock, you know.” 


l8 


BLUFFTON. 


“Yes: I had heard that you were moving West; and, 
indeed, as I stood on the levee at Maple City, I saw your 
father go up the plank, but, not seeing your face, I did not 
recognize you as the one who was with him.” 

“ Mother is dead, you know ; and the other girls we 
have left in Chicago with aunt, until we get the house 
ready to receive them. I am the housekeeper now. But 
father must be wondering what^has become of me. Don’t 
you want to see him? ” 

“ Of course I do. It was he I had started to find when 
the wonder of this new river scenery threw me into the day- 
dream in which your face appeared. I was more glad than 
I can tell when I saw him ; for I did not like to enter on my 
new field alone. It will make the strange church seem like 
home to see his face among the pews. Where have you left 
him?” 

“ Aft, I believe the sailors call it : on the deck at the rear 
of the saloon. I had been at my stateroom for a moment, 
and strayed this way, on coming out, to take a look down 
the river. I have visited here before, and the scenery seems 
like an old acquaintance. Uncle James lives at Bluffton, you 
know.” 

This was said as they walked together down the saloon. 
There was a friendly, old-time greeting on the part of Mr. 
Forrest and Judge Hartley. And, drawing three camp-stools 
together, they sat down and talked over the past, and went 
over the causes that brought them all out to their new 
Western home. 

The boat glided onward, opening up behind them an 


ON THE STEAMER. 


19 


ever-changing panorama of loveliness. Now a bluff stood 
out boldly, and with its rocky front looked down upon them 
as they drifted through its shadows. On the other shore, 
the prairie stretched off for miles, till a range of hills, tipped 
with the rays of the slanting sun, closed in the horizon. 
Then a green valley, down which a tree-shaded creek ran 
darkly in the deepening shadow, wound off and up, and hid 
itself in the mystery of the hills. And here and there were 
islands that were emeralds set in crystal. 

Pointing out to each other the beauties of scenery as they 
passed, they fell to talking of their coming life and work. 

“This Western country is grand and wonderful,” said the 
judge. “ But I imagine that, religiously, it is not much like 
New England. There is a little colony of the Puritan ele- 
ment at Bluffton ; and we must try to be like the leaven of 
the Scriptures, and see if we can’t bring them to our New- 
England ways.” 

“ I have only seen two or three of the people,” answered 
Mr. Forrest, “ and do not know much about the rest of the 
inhabitants.” 

“I’m afraid they’re a godless set,” replied the judge. 
“ My brother writes me, that it is a sabbath-breaking, horse- 
racing, drinking place, not much like the God-fearing town 
we are used to.” 

“ We must show them a better style of morals, then,” 
said Mr. Forrest. 

“ Morals ! ” rather emphatically exclaimed the judge. 
“ Morals are good enough as far as they go ; but they need 
something deeper than that. Morals never yet saved a 


20 


BLUFFTON. 


town any more than an individual. It’s the gospel they 
need, — the pure, unadulterated gospel ; and I hope that 
you are ready to preach it to them fearlessly, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ I trust,” modestly replied he, “ that I shall be able to 
preach God’s truth to them, and help them mend their 
ways.” 

“ Good, hard doctrine,” continued the judge, “ the wrath 
of God against sin, the ‘sincere milk of the word,’ salvation 
only through the atoning blood, — that is what they need.” 

“ We must expect,” he replied, “ to find their ways differ- 
ent from ours. All new countries are rough at first. It’s a 
lower type of civilization.” 

“.Don’t talk of ‘civilization,’ and ‘ different ways,”’ said 
the judge. “ Such words savor too strongly of worldly wis- 
dom, and ‘philosophy falsely so called.’ Sin is the same 
thing, and comes from the same Devil, all the world over. 
We must be uncompromising. The strongholds of Satan’s 
kingdom must be attacked by the ‘ sword of the Lord and of 
Gideon.’ ” 

Mr. Forrest was as earnest in his faith, and thought him- 
self as sound in his orthodoxy, as the judge. But, though he 
remembered the tone in his conversation that used to be so 
familiar in the old prayer-meeting talks at home, it had 
now a strange, far-away sound in his ears. He had become 
accustomed to put his religious meanings into the talk of 
every day, thinking it better to translate divine messages 
into the language of the street. So he was not sorry when 
Madge jumped to her feet, as the whistle blew its shrill blast, 
and said, — 


ON THE STEAMER. 


21 


“ Come, father and Mr. Forrest, let’s leave theology now, 
and see the steamer pass through the bridge.” 

They rose and hurried through the saloon, and stood 
together on the forward deck. They were just in time. 
The draw had swung to its place, and the quickening cur- 
rent, as it rushed between the piers, was bearing the steamer 
on with its rapid flow. The boat seemed to thrill with the 
lift of the waters ; and she shot through the opening as if 
rejoicing in the intelligence and grace of motion of a living 
thing. 

And now Bluffton itself was in sight, and the boat was all 
astir with the preparation for landing. They stood for a 
moment to take in the natural features of the town. Mark 
first noticed the tall bluff at its southern end, from which it 
took its name. Sheer up it rose a hundred and fifty feet, 
crowned with one lone tree on the edge of its summit, whose 
gnarled and crooked roots stretched out and curled down 
over its rocky face. A lower and irregular range of hills 
stretched round in a semicircle, bounding the horizon at 
the back of the town, and jutting out boldly again on the 
river-bank above the city in another bluff only less noticeable 
than the first. A stream ran through the city, dividing it 
irregularly into an upper and lower town. Its nearer side 
had all the dingy and ill-kept appearance that marks so 
many of these river-towns ; but it looked very picturesque 
and beautiful as it stretched back from the river-front, and 
climbed past the open square and up to the tops of the hills 
that were brilliant with the glory of the setting sun. 

The scene on the levee only repeated that at Maple City ; 


22 


BLUFFTON. 


save that the judge and Margaret recognized and beckoned 
to the friends that waited for them on shore. Mr. Forrest 
himself saw a member of the church committee that had 
met him at the East, come to welcome him to his new field. 
As they passed down the plank, he shook the judge a hearty 
good-night, saying, — 

“ We shall meet again to-morrow.” 

And now for the first time, at parting, he took the hand 
of Margaret, thrilled with the consciousness that it was no 
longer a child’s hand to be touched or dropped indifferently, 
but the hand of a woman. He had shaken the hands of a 
thousand women before, and only regarded it as a formal 
piece of ceremony. But this soft touch tingled in his veins, 
and throbbed wildly through his heart. All pure, new love 
has about it a sense of reverent awe. So while he would not 
have dared to hold her hand, or give it conscious pressure, a 
new sense of loss came over him when it was withdrawn ; 
and he trembled as he waked up to the fact that the power 
of control over his own future happiness had passed out of 
his hands, and now lay in the touch and look of one, who, so 
far as he knew, was utterly indifferent to him except on the 
one point as to whether she was going to like or dislike him 
as a minister. 

So, while he was driven to the hotel, he became aware that 
Bluffton now had in it, for his weal or woe, something besides 
a church. 


RETROSPECT. 


23 


III, 


RETROSPECT. 


ND now, while the young minister is resting from his 



journey, and preparing for the word he must speak 
to-morrow, and which is to strike the keynote to the work 
which he is to undertake in Bluffton, let us glance back a 
little, and see who and what kind of a man he is. 

In person he was a little above the medium height, straight, 
broad-shouldered, and rather muscular in his build. His 
head was large, and covered with wavy, soft brown hair. 
His forehead was high and broad, and terminated at the base 
by cliffs of brows that reminded one of Tennyson’s “ bar of 
Michael Angelo ; ” while beneath these were a pair of large 
gray eyes, set so deep that they looked smaller than they 
were, except when he was animated in private or roused in 
public speech. His nose was large, straight, and prominent. 
A long and firm upper-lip was completely concealed by a 
heavy moustache, with the exception of which his face was 
smooth. The face — which was strong and striking rather 
than handsome — was rounded by a chin no way remarkable, 
but only in keeping with the rest of his features. He dressed 
in accordance with the one canon of perfect taste that he 


24 


BLUFFTON. 


was always ready to advocate for both man and woman, — 
so well and so simply that no one would think any thing 
about the dress, but only notice and remember the person. 

He had behind him such a memory of struggle and toil as 
fitted him to understand, and brought him into keen and 
ready sympathy with, all 

“ The low, sad music of humanity.” 

Bom in poverty, a hard-working farmer’s son, he kept ever 
hanging in his study, as an ideal portrait of his remem- 
bered childhood, the picture of Whittier’s “Barefoot Boy.’’ 
Many a time, sleeping up under the bare, sloping roof of 
the little old brown farmhouse garret, while the wild winter 
storm rocked and sung him to sleep, had he waked in the 
morning to find a snowdrift sifted tlirough the broken roof, 
and lying across his bed. Rising, the winter through, at 
four o’clock in the morning, to do his father’s and the neigh- 
bors’ “ chores,” and cut the wood for the day’s fire, before the 
time for school, he was used to trudging through the snow, 
thin-clad, to the old district schoolhouse, and struggling 
hard, or playing hard, to keep back the tears that the nip- 
ping cold would extort. 

He was strongly religious in his natural bent, and he was 
nursed and trained in all the traditional views and ways of 
orthodoxy. Dreaming from childhood of the work of Jesus 
in Judaea, and of the still dark wastes of heathendom that 
had not heard his name, he used to wonder why all men 
were not ministers of his gospel ; and he could not remem- 
ber the time when he did not plan to be one himself. 


RETROSPECT. 


25 


He was cradled amid scenes of such idyllic country beauty 
as naturally gave an aesthetic and poetic turn to his sensitive 
mind. The farmhouse was on a hill-top overlooking a 
lovely river, that wound away past intervale and wood, till it 
lost itself in the hills that rose higher and higher northward 
in a range of mountains that closed in the horizon about the 
region of the lakes. A brook, the scene of childhood sports, 
of adventures of hunting and fishing, wound through the 
meadow, and poured its tiny tribute into the river at the foot 
of the hill. 

He rummaged through the village library, and feasted on 
the wit, humor, and satire of the first series of the “ Biglow 
Papers ; ” he devoured Pope and Dryden and Cowley, and 
twice read through “Paradise Lost,” long before he had any 
idea of general literature, or the rank to which these writers 
were entitled on the world’s roll of fame. He also had the 
attack, — inevitable as teething, — to which all thoughtful 
children are subject, of verse-making himself. He wrote 
verse enough for a book by the time he was fifteen, which 
bashfulness perhaps, more than compassion for a suffering 
humanity, prevented his inflicting on a patient world. 

Such were some of the salient outlines on the background 
of his memory. 

At his first entry of the seminary for theological training, 
his reverence for professors and learned lecturers was such 
that he did little but receive and absorb their teachings. 
He even regarded as presumptuous the hardihood of some 
occasional student who dared to question the dictum of a 
master in divinity ; and he thought it was good enough for 


26 


BLUFFTON. 


him when a sharp retort and a “ settler ” took the place of 
an explanation. A student asked Dr. Wayland, one day, 
why divine inspiration was necessary for the writing of the 
Book of Proverbs. The doctor crushed him by asking him 
to go and write as good a chapter himself. At this time 
Mark would have looked at such a rejoinder as conclusive. 
He did not stop, till afterwards, to think that because “ not 
twenty men in Boston could have written Shakspeare,” as a 
critic once profoundly said, that hardly proved that Othello 
was inspired and infallible. 

But toward the latter part of his seminary-life he began to 
use his own brain, and think for himself. Not, by any means, 
that he questioned the system of orthodoxy, — very far from 
it ; but he began to feel, that, while such and such things 
might be true, he could not preach as a mere echo of others’ 
thoughts. It must be true to him before he could dare to 
speak it. Thus, without his knowing it, he admitted a prin- 
ciple fatal to his soundness, and that was to lead him a long 
and weary and painful way. 

He did not read or study outside of his system, except as 
special books were pointed out to him ; and these he was 
taught to consider already abolished, or as profane quibblers 
who chose “darkness rather than light,” and were therefore 
“ given over to a reprobate mind.” A perfect divine revela- 
tion had been given to men ; and only the wilfully wicked 
refused to see it. One prominent professor from Union 
Seminary advised the students not to read any books later 
than the seventeenth century. A prominent, successful D.D. 
and pastor told them that the books that attacked their 


RETROSPECT. 


27 


system were weak, if not venomous, and they ought not 
to waste their time in reading them, but spend it in saving 
souls. Beside, Satan was able to make “ th'e worse appear 
the better reason;” and since man was fallen, and the 
divine light blotted from his mind, to follow “ profane and 
carnal reason” was chasing a will-o’-the-wisp that would 
lead them into the swamps of corruption, and endanger their 
souls’ eternal welfare. 

Through such influences he passed to his work. God was 
to be found only in the Bible as interpreted in the popular 
writings. Man was corrupt ; nature was only to be used to 
illustrate revelation ; and the great scientific thinkers of the 
world had lost their spiritual vision by long contact with a 
debasing materialism. 

When his theological course was completed, he said to 
his chum, — 

“ If the rest of you choose to settle down in some little 
quiet nook, and wither into a petty routine, I do not. I’m 
off for the frontiers.” 

“ But what will you get on the frontiers except rough 
work?” said his chum. 

“ I’ll get a knowledge of humanity ; I’ll measure the size 
of the continent ; I’ll see how my theology works in practi- 
cal life,” said he. “ Then, if I wish to settle East, I can 
labor in view of the whole field.” 

So off he went, by the way of the Isthmus, to California 
and Oregon. He went up and down the country, exploring 
the field, the wants of this place and that, and at last located 
in a mining-camp, and began preaching in schoolhouses 
and on the street-comers as he could get a hearing. 


28 


BLUFFTON. 


He learned one thing that was of infinite use to him in his 
after-life ; and that was, to stand strong on his o^vn feet, and 
place the man before the minister. The “Rev,” attached 
to his name, he soon found out, instead of giving him cur- 
rency as sterling coin, was looked upon with suspicion as a 
surface indication of counterfeit and religious swindle. His 
being a minister, instead of being a proof of manhood, was 
rather against him. After he had proved himself a man, 
then they began, for the first time, to respect the minister. 
Not that they had any thing against ministers, as such ; they 
remembered home too well for that : but the title had so often 
been used to cloak a sham, that they wanted to know what 
was under a black coat. Wrecked and tumble-down minis- 
ters, with the manhood gone out, were scattered, like desert- 
ed and broken-roofed cabins, all through the mining-regions. 

So after Mark had “ cleaned out ” some “ roughs ” that 
came in to break up his prayer-meeting ; after he had 
knocked down a brute on the street for abusing a little boy ; 
when they found that he was always on the side of right, 
“ meant business ” as they said, and was always ready to 
“ help a feller in trouble,” — they “ took to ” him wonderfully. 
One rough old miner told him privately that “ he didn’t know 
but he liked him ’bout as well ez ef he warn’t a minister.” 
And he added, “ Ef yer want any dust to help a boy whose 
mine has ‘ petered out,’ an’ who’s got sick, jes’ show yer 
hand, and I’m yer man. Or ef any shufflin’ bilk interferes 
with your meetin’s. I’ll clean him out quicker’n greased light- 
nin’. Yer can count on me.” 

And another lesson he learned ; and that was, that when 


RETROSPECT. 


29 


dealing with men who cared nothing for traditions, who got 
right down to “ hard-pan ” on all questions, and who believed 
with their whole souls that it took just a hundred cents in 
gold to make a dollar, he must appeal to their common 
sense and reason, must talk home to their every-day life, or 
else he might as well not talk at all. 

Along with this kind of life, he had read and studied widely 
and deeply as his time and means for purchasing books per- 
mitted ; for he wished to be master of the problems of the day 
in the scholarly world, as well as master of the human heart 
in its every-day manifestations of common life. 

When you stand by a river-bank, and know its source and 
general trend, you can with tolerable accuracy forecast its 
onward course, and tell into what ocean it will empty. So it 
was needful that so much of the past course of the young 
minister should be indicated, in order to a better under- 
standing of what is to follow. 


30 


BLUFFTON. 


IV. 

FIRST SUNDAY AT BLUFFTON. 

B y eight o’clock on Sunday morning, Mr. Forrest had 
eaten a light breakfast, — the slight nervous anxiety he 
always felt when he was to speak in public usually took away 
his appetite, — and was on his way to Bowman’s Hill, as the 
keeper of the “ Cosmopolitan Hotel ” informed him they 
had christened the bluff at the northern end of the town. 
As he turned in the street, and looked back at what in his 
Eastern home would have been popularly called a “ tarvern,” 
he smiled at the ludicrous suggestion, that, if the name had 
been any bigger for so little a hotel, the signboard would 
have stuck out at both ends of the building. And the term 
“ Cosmopolitan ” had in it painful suggestions of the bound- 
less hospitality the house afforded to all the inferior forms of 
animate life. 

But he soon forgot the unpleasant breaks in his “ visions of 
the night,” as he thought that “ God made the country, but 
man made the town.” The scene of beauty about him was, 
at any rate, God’s work, whatever might be said of the hotel. 
He slowly climbed the hill ; for as he was to speak, not read, 
that day, he wisely thought a breath of the divine inspiration 
of nature would be fitting preparation. 


FIRST SUNDAY AT BLUFFTON. 


31 


When he had gained the hill, he looked slowly round, and 
drank in the scene. As he gazed down and up the river, 
and over the prairie beyond, and saw the city so silent at his 
feet, while the still sunlight, like magic alchemist, transmuted 
every base thing, even the filthy streets, to burnished gold, 
his lips moved, and his thoughts found involuntary utterance 
in those words that have become a part of so many fair 
nature-pictures, — 

“ Oh, what is so rare as a day in June ? 

Then if ever come perfect days.” 

And glancing up at the tender blue that seemed so near, 
and then away to where it softly rested on the as tender green 
of the prairie, he continued, — 

“ Then heaven tries the earth, if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear lays, — 

Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.” 

And he exclaimed in sincere and simple devoutness, “ O 
Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou 
made them all.” 

His musing was interrupted by a rough voice that ex- 
claimed, — 

“ Waal, young man, I reckon as how ye must be fresh in 
these parts, or ye wouldn’t be up here at this time in the 
mornin’ alone, gawkin’ round ez ef ye’d never seen a river 
nur a payrarie before.” 

Mark turned, and faced a man bare-headed and in his 
shirt-sleeves, who appeared to belong to an odd-looking and 


32 


BLUFFTON. 


diminutive cottage not far away. When he saw he was good- 
natured, and disposed to be neighborly, he was not alto- 
gether sorry to be interrupted in his meditations; for he 
thought he could ask him a few questions about the city 
below. So he answered pleasantly, — 

“ Yes : I presume I am one that you’d call ‘ fresh,’ having 
come to town for the first time by last night’s boat ; and I 
never saw the Mississippi till yesterday.” 

“ Raally ! ” said he, “ that seems sorter strange to one who’s 
looked at it night and mornin’ for nigh thirty year. I reckon 
it’s natur’ though. ’F I should go to Chicago or St. Louis, 
I reckon I sh’d stare round same’s you do here. Ye don’t 
look like a hotel-runner nur a book-agent? ” 

The tone of voice in which the last sentence was uttered 
turned it into a question ; and, as Mr. Forrest had no objec- 
tion to his knowing his mission, he said, — 

“ No : I’m a minister. I preach my first sermon here to- 
day. Perhaps you attend what is to be my church.” 

“ Haven’t been ter church this ten year,” said he, “ ’cept 
to funerals. I don’t take much stock in what the churches 
calls religion any more, nohow. I b’long ter the church o’ 
all-out-doors, where all the pews is free, and it don’t cost 
nothin’ for choirs, coz the birds do the music. The church- 
es is full o’ ornery critters, that cheats week-days, and prays 
Sundays. Now, thar’s the Congregational church been 
raarin’ up a mighty fine meetin’-’us, but ain’t got religion 
enough ter go half way round. Presbyterians ’bout the 
same, only their heaven’s a leetle smaller’n the Congrega- 
tionalists’. The ’Piscopals runs the Church of the ’Postolic 


FIRST SUNDAY AT BLUFFTON. 


33 


Succession, where they have sech ‘ a gentlemanly mode of 
worship,’ as one on ’em said t’other day. ’N’ then, wuss’n 
all the rest, is the Christ-yuns and Baptists, always fightin’ 
'bout a leetle more or less water, that wouldn’t hurt ’em any 
outside, nur do ’em much good in. They talk so much 
’bout water, that it always seems sort ’er swampy and soggy 
like, round a Baptist church, and makes ye feel ’z ef ’twas 
a kindo’ speritooal fever- ’n’-ager country they live in.” 

“ Oh ! but you’re rather hard on the churches, aren’t 
you?” said Mr. Forrest. “I know they’re not all saints; 
but that is because they don’t live out the beauty of their 
religion. It’s more religion, not less, that we all need.” 

“ Maybe, young man,” said he ; “ but you’ll be wiser when 
ye git older. Ask yer parding for speakin’ rough; but I 
like yer, and am sorry ye ain’t doing something better’n 
preachin.’ Now, they had a feller here not long sence, that 
looked so ornery ’t I thought the Lord must be short on’t 
fer hands when he made a ’postle er him. But you look 
like a squar’ man, az ef yer hed it in yer.” 

“Thank you for your good opinion,” answered Mark. 
“ Perhaps you’ll think better of my religion when you know 
its better side.” 

“Ez ter that,” said he, “I don’t own up ter bein’ ’thout 
religion now ; only I’ve got my own kind. I’ve my own 
notions ’bout God an’ this ere universe. I don’t believe 
that bluff over yander wuz made in six days. An’ I think 
th’ Almighty knew what he was ’bout from the fust. I ’low 
it don’t Stan’ ter reason, that after he’d got things done, and 
called ’em ‘good,’ he found himself dis’pinted in the way 


34 


BLUFFTON. 


the machine run, and had ter come in an’ fix ’t all over 
again, and lose the biggest part o’ the job at that. ’Cordin’ 
ter you ministers, the Lord gits euchred every time, coz the 
other feller holds all the trumps.” 

“ Well,” said Mark, “ I haven’t time to talk longer now. 
I’ve heard you through, and some day I’ll give you my side 
of these questions. I must be getting ready for church. 
Good day — what may I call you?” 

“ Call me Uncle Zeke, if you will. That’s my every-day 
name. I live over thar’ in the cabin. Latch-string’s allers 
out.” 

Mr. Forrest now started down the hill, and walked leisure- 
ly in the direction of the church. He was not at all troubled 
by what he tolerantly regarded as the natural prejudices of 
one who had doubtless received rather ill usage at the 
hands of the world. 

As he went on, he saw Major Ward, the gentleman who 
had met him East, and who drove him to his hotel. He had 
now come to walk with him to the church. Mr. Forrest 
related his adventure ; and the major gave him some account 
of Uncle Zeke, whom he spoke of as a “ good, honest man, 
but a little peculiar.” 

The bells were now ringing out on the soft, luminous air ; 
and the streets were full of people on their way to church. 
Seeing Mr. Forrest with the major, they knew he must be the 
new minister, and so scanned him curiously as they passed. 

“The people are taking my measure, major,” said he. 
“ They are looking to see if I am a ‘ reed shaken by the 
wind.’” 


FIRST SUNDAY AT BLUFFTON. 


35 


“ It’ll be an old story after a little, and I think you’ll enjoy 
it when you get settled into the work. This is a field of 
most capital promise.” 

They had now reached the church, a plain but nice brick 
structure, on the corner of Seventh and Linden Streets, 
facing the public square. Mr. Forrest saw, through the open 
door, that it was filled by a pleasant and attractive-looking 
congregation. He passed up the aisle, and took his seat in 
the pulpit. He was used to facing congregations by this 
time ; and so, while modest in demeanor, he was not flurried. 
For the first time in his life, however, he was afraid of eyes ; 
not of the hundreds, but of one solitary pair. These — 
the eyes of the angel that floated into his yesterday’s vision 
— looked at him, and pierced him through and through. 
He trembled, and looked down. To him this large audience 
was now reduced to one. He wished she might have staid 
at home on this first Sunday, until he had once been heard. 
He did not care whether the people liked the sermon : 
would she like it ? It was not a sense of pride in his work, 
but only the crushing thought that he could not bear to have 
her hold a mean opinion of him. The sweetest flowers 
would have shrivelled to a poor and unworthy gift, if he had 
thought of offering them to her. And so his highest and 
best thoughts seemed poor, because she was to listen. 
Would she think him awkward ? This thought almost par- 
alyzed his movements. 

But the time came to speak ; and he bravely flung away 
his timidity, and began the service. 

He tpoJc for liis text, “ God was in Christ, reconciling the 


36 


BLUFFTON. 


world unto himself.” He preached a sermon of nature and 
of life. The sweet world and the blue sky, and the high 
hope of a young and noble heart, got into his words. He 
spoke of God as the living and loving God to-day ; of Christ 
as a manifestation of his saving grace that waited not to be 
sent for, but went out after the lost ; of man as able to turn 
from evil when he would ; and he closed by saying, that, if 
any men were finally lost, it would only be because they 
“ would not come and have life.” 

At the close of service he had what to him was the exqui- 
site pleasure of touching Miss Margaret’s hand once more. 
And, though she said no word of the sermon, there was that 
in her eyes that told him she had been melted and moved. 
And he went out of church as light as air, feeling that all 
the world might hate and despise him, if it would, provided 
only her eyes might look upon him with approval. 

After being introduced to everybody, he accepted an invi- 
tation to dine with Major Ward. And we will leave him now 
in his care, while we listen to a few comments in the vesti- 
bule and on the street. 

“ Oh ! that was a sweet, gentle, loving sermon, wasn’t it? ” 
said old Mr. Buck. 

“Yis,” said aunt Sally Rawson ; “but I don’t think he’ll 
never do. He’ll be too foppish. I’m afeared : his hair curls 
too much for a minister.” 

“ And there’s another thing,” said old Mrs. Buck : “ he’d 
orter be married. A minister ain’t wuth nothin’ till he’s got 
a wife to help him do his parish work. An’ I guess there 
won’t be much spiritooality about him as long’s he’s gallivan- 


FIRST SUNDAY AT BLUFFTON. 


37 


tin’ round with all the handsome gals. Now, my old man 
was nothin’ till I took him in hand, and settled him down ; 
and he ain’t a minister neither.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” tartly replied Jane Ann Rawson, “ of course 
you’ll talk that way, because you ain’t got any girls. If you 
had one fit to be married, you’d think he was a special prov- 
idence.” 

And so the chatter ran on. The quiet ones went away 
and thought. The rattlers went away, and rattled as they 
went. But they meant no harm by their gossip, and were 
as ready to like the new minister as anybody. 

The only thing that boded trouble was the comments of 
three that went up the street by themselves, — Judge Hart- 
ley, Mr. Richard Smiley, and Deacon Putney, who, on ac- 
count of his plastic nature, was generally called Deacon Putty 
by any one who was speaking of, and not to, him. If you 
wanted to know his opinion, you must hunt up the last 
strong-minded man who had spoken to him. He meant 
well : so of all stupid tools and blunderers. Meaning to 
serve the Lord, he was always ready to do the Devil’s work, 
if his highness only came playing his popular part of the 
“angel of light.” 

“ I like him capitally,” said Deacon Putney : “ that was 
just a splendid sermon.” 

“Well,” replied Judge Hartley, “I’m afraid it savors a 
little too much of tenderness towards sin. Of course God 
is love ; but he’s justice too. The wickedness of man needs 
the wrath preached. God is love toward the elect ; but to 
the hardened sinner he is a ‘ consuming fire.’ But I won’t 


38 


BLUFFTON. 


judge too soon : he may give us the other side next Sun- 
day.” 

“And I think,” said Mr. Richard Smiley, “that such 
preaching is fast verging toward infidelity. Not a word 
about ‘justification by faith;’ not a word about the ‘rags 
of our own righteousness ; ’ not a word about total deprav- 
ity, and the uselessness of a man’s trying to help himself 
and lead a good life in his own strength ! I believe that 
the ‘ works of the law ’ are a curse, and that what we need 
is ‘ free grace ’ through the blood of Christ.” 

He didn’t know enough of the true meaning of scrip- 
ture to understand that it was just the “works of the law,” 
in Paul’s sense of the term, to which he was really trusting. 
And Uncle Zeke on the bluff sometimes shrewdly observed, 
that, if “ Dick Smiley ever is saved, it will have to be by 
faith, sure ’nough. For, d’ye see, he hain’t got rags o’ self- 
righteousness ’nough round his whole place to rig out a 
’spectable scarecrow.” 

But Deacon Putney, after the ex-cathedra opinion of Mr. 
Smiley, made nimble work of getting over the critical fence ; 
and said, — 

“ Well, yes : I guess p’raps there’s a deal in what you say. 
We’ll have to keep our eyes open, and see that he don’t win 
the affections of the church, and lead ’em into infidelity.” 

Meantime, at the house of Major Ward, Mr. Forrest was 
finding pleasant and appreciative entertainment. The major 
wholly approved of the sermon, and gave him a hearty right 
hand on the promise of his first Sunday in Bluffton. 


TO THE CAVE. 


39 


V. 

TO THE CAVE. 

M r. FORREST had now been several weeks at Bluffton, 
and was quietly settled down to his work. The 
other two of the judge’s daughters had come on from 
Chicago, and the family was established in its new home. 
Mr. Forrest had wearied of the hotel, and been admitted into 
the house of a family close by the judge’s, and had fitted up 
the “ best room ” as his study. The people had exhausted 
their petty criticisms, and, when they were done, found out 
that they really liked him amazingly. So thoroughly had he 
gained the ear and respect of the town by his straight-out, 
simple manliness, that even Mr. Richard’s Smiley’s instinc- 
tive dislike was hidden beneath a cloak of seeming admira- 
tion. And of course Deacon Putney was loud in his 
praises. Judge Hartley, who, where he did not consider the 
honor of God or the integrity of the gospel at stake, was as 
gentle and loving as a child,* had been thoroughly won over 
into a genuine admirer of Mr. Forrest, and tried to make 
him feel that his house was a sort of home. He was at 
liberty to come and go as he would ; and always there was a 
chair for him at the table. And yet there was no house 


40 


BLUFFTON. 


where he felt less free. Perfectly well-bred, and accustomed 
to pass at ease through all phases and forms of society, — 
having the perfect assurance and self-control which always 
seems to fascinate women, who, weak themselves, instinct- 
ively admire the strong, — he yet felt in Madge’s presence a 
certain awe and constraint such as a Catholic might feel in 
approaching the shrine of a saint. 

So much at home did he at length become in the family, 
that they talked, read, walked, and rode together. He could 
not decline these common courtesies without appearing to 
be unaccountably odd : he did not wish to decline them, for 
he was irresistibly drawn to her side. And yet he could not 
conceal from himself the fact that he was risking the peace 
and happiness of his life. She had become a part of his 
waking and sleeping thoughts. He could not bear to think 
of the future with her face and form left out ; and still he was 
compelled to confess that he had no reason to suppose he 
could win her. And indeed ut seemed like infinite presump- 
tion to think of calling her his own. All first, true love is 
worship ; and it seems like profanation for a mortal to ex- 
pect any thing more than a smile, or permission to kiss her 
hand, from the goddess he adores. The ground she trod on 
was holy. If her dress accidentally brushed him in passing, 
it thrilled him through and through as young trees thrill at 
the touch of the spring-tiipe sun. The commonest article 
of apparel that she had worn was consecrated, and fit to 
become a sacred relic. 

The house where he boarded was just across the street ; 
and her chamber was opposite and facing his. As the 


TO THE CAVE. 


41 


Parsee salutes the rising sun, and then goes to his labor, so 
he felt stronger for his daily task if, in her fresh morning 
wrapper, she bestowed upon him a smile and a nod as she 
threw open her window to breathe the sweet summer air, 
and sprinkle the thirsty flowers and vines that turned the 
window-seat into a sort of hanging garden. And sometimes 
he would sit by his window, and read his own thoughts and 
longings in the dainty verse of Aldrich : — 

“ With lash on cheek she comes and goes ; 

I watch her when she little knows : 

I wonder if she dreams of it. 

Sitting and working at my rhymes, 

I weave into my verse at times 
Her sunny hair, or gleams of it. 

Upon her window-ledge is set 
A box of flowering mignonnette : 

Morning and eve she tends to them, — 

The careless flowers that do not care 
About that loosened strand of hair. 

As prettily she bends to them. 

If I could once contrive to get 
Into that box of mignonnette. 

Some morning when she tends to them — 

She comes ! I see the rich blood rise 
From throat to cheek ! — down go the eyes 
Demurely as she bends to them.” 

He would have given the world to know that she would 
care to have him as near to her as the mignonnette. Then 
he would torture himself with deliberately making up his 


42 


BLUFFTON. 


mind that of course she cared nothing for him, and never 
would. “ She,” he would think to himself, “ is a native-born 
princess. Some rich man will come, and fill her hair with 
jewels, and spread soft, deep carpets for her dainty feet, and 
make her at home in rooms full of pictures and the art-treas- 
ures of the world. I am only a poor minister. What can I 
offer her? A parsonage and parish work ; and take her into 
the midst of a set of meddling, criticising fools, who think 
the minister’s affairs are public property, who will find fault 
with every rose she wears in her hair, and will think her 
merry laughter is sinful levity in a minister’s wife. Bah ! it 
would be an insult to ask her to do it, and she is too proud 
and wise ever to consent. By as much as I love and worship 
her image, — 

‘ I must tear it from my bosom, 

Though my heart be at the root.’ ” 

And then he would plunge into his study, or rush out and 
dive into his parish work, or wander off for a walk upon the 
hills. 

Three or four miles down the river was a cave, — a sort of 
Mammoth Cave on a smaller scale. It was full of chambers, 
and passage-ways, and natural wonders. As, then, it was 
always of interest in itself, and as there was a fine open 
grassy glade in front of its mouth, where grand old trees gave 
abundance of pleasant shade, and through whose branches 
was a lovely view of the river, it was a favorite resort for 
picnic and pleasure parties. To the cave, therefore, the 
young people had now arranged an excursion ; and of course 
they invited the minister to accompany them. They had 


TO THE CAVE. 


43 


engaged the little steamer, the Eagle Wing, to carry the 
party. But Mr. Forrest had discovered that Miss Margaret — 
as near familiarity as he could persuade himself to approach 
in addressing her — was extravagantly fond of horseback 
riding ; and, as this was one of his California accomplish- 
ments, he determined to offer her the pleasure of a gallop. 
Thinking she might shrink from going with him alone, he 
invited one of her sisters and a gentleman friend to make up 
their equestrian party of four. 

They started an hour before the merry steamer-load ; and, 
taking a circuitous and unfamiliar road, they determined to 
enjoy a leisurely ’lope, and, coming in to the river below the 
cave, be on hand to meet the party on the boat as they landed. 
It was a wild, merry ride. Mr. Forrest often said that he 
knew of nothing like the sense of thrilling, exulting, godlike 
power that one experiences mounted on a nervous but well- 
trained horse, so adapted to his rider that they become one 
like the half-divine centaurs of old. The only thing that 
ever reminded him of it was the similar sense of mastery that 
he sometimes experienced when preaching at his best, with 
no fence of a desk between him and his audience ; and 
when he was grasping in his hands, like reins, the invisible 
threads of sympathy that ran to every heart, and gave him 
power to sway, to rouse, to soothe, to make smile or weep, 
at will, — the exercise of a power that only the orator knows. 
So on they galloped through shade and sun ; Mr. Forrest 
and Miss Hartley being mounted on a pair of splendid grays. 
They chatted merrily as they walked their horses up some 
rising ground, or stopped to breathe them for a moment in 


44 


BLUFFTON. 


the shade. It was a pretty picture of health and vigor and 
beauty : their light and happy laughter ringing out on the 
fresh morning air ; their young blood keeping time to the 
rhythmic motion, mounting to the red cheek, and giving 
the eye an added lustre ; the while they sped onward through 
the checkered sunlight beneath the trees, plunged through a 
shady thicket, leaped some narrow stream, and then shot 
out into the gleaming sunshine again ; themselves a part of 
the old world’s everlasting youth. The Tennysonian ride of 
Queen Guinevere kept dancing through his brain ; and, could 
he but be her Launcelot, he felt he could ride the world for- 
ever, if she would but lead, and make him rich in payment 
of her smile. They were surprised at every turn by pictures 
of beauty, that, but for the more thrilling fascination of sim- 
ple motion, they would have liked to stop and enjoy. But 
when they gained the highest point of their ride, as they 
turned toward the river, such a panorama spread around 
them that they all, as if by common consent, reined in their 
horses. For thirty miles the magnificent river wound, gleam- 
ing and sparkling, in full view. It was a stream of silver, 
gemmed with islands of perfect green. Ten miles up stream 
curled the smoke of a steamer, too far away to be any thing 
but a silent part of the picture. Ten miles down stream, 
climbing up on to and crowning the top of a bluff, gleamed 
the white and shone the red of a city, while a light cloud 
of smoke hung over it in the still air. Across the river, the 
prairie, farms, farmhouses, villages, a train of cars shooting 
across the green, and a low range of hills that cut off the 
view. Behind them a wondrously diversified country, of hill 


TO THE CAVE, 


45 


and vale, made picturesque by strips of red country road and 
the varied shade of green or brown of the different crops 
of corn or grain or grass. 

“Never was anything fairer than this seen since Moses 
stood on Pisgah ! ” exclaimed Mr. Forrest. 

“I don’t see how heaven can be any finer,” said Miss 
Hartley. 

They were too full of the wondrous beauty of the scene 
for common conversation. As they sat and simply gazed, 
Mr. Forrest glanced at his watch, and said, — 

“ It’s almost time for the boat : we must hurry on.” 

They spurred their now rested horses in a merry race, and 
soon stood on the river road that ran along close by the bank. 
They found themselves about a quarter of a mile below the 
cave ; and the Eagle Wing was in sight. But she was 
getting on after a fashion that Mr. Forrest had never seen 
before. He was too keen an observer to pass by any 
important thing without learning its use : so he had already 
discovered that the two spars, attached to either side of the 
upright pole on the bow of a river-boat, were used for 
“ creeping ” over sand-bars. 

“ Hallo ! ” called out Mr. Snyder, the knight of Miss ]\Iar- 
garet’s sister Sue, “ the Eagle Wing doesn’t fly very well to- 
day, does she ? ” 

And, as they could do nothing but look on, they trotted 
leisurely along to get a better view of the situation. 

“ I’d no idea the river was so shallow,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“ It’s deep enough,” returned Mr. Snyder, “ if one can 
only keep the channel. But during the high water, and when 


46 


BLUFFTON. 


the current is rapid, the bottom shifts so that it is hard for 
even the best pilots to keep the run of it. Then, as the 
water falls rapidly, no one knows when he may get aground. 
So, you see, they always go prepared for a ‘ creep.’ ” 

“ See her lift,” said Miss Margaret. “ It must be a queer 
sensation to sail on stilts in that style.” 

The little steamer was doing bravely. The two long spars, 
fastened together at the top of the upright pole, were thrust 
out forward and on either side, forming a sort of letter A 
without the cross-stroke. Then, as they put on all steam, the 
spars acted as a lever to raise the bottom from the sand ; and 
she sprang forward until the spars pointed toward the stern, 
and she was resting on the bar again. As her load was 
light, and the bar was not a very extensive one, a few lifts 
like this took her over into free water again. The party on 
the boat set up a shout, which was answered from the shore ; 
and in a few minutes the planks were out, and the happy 
crowd were scattered under the trees, and making ready to 
explore the cave. 

With bits of tallow-candles for torches, and strips of news- 
paper for candlesticks, they threaded the narrow passage- 
ways, passed through lofty chambers, or stood on the edge of 
abysses, and listened to the drip of unseen waters that tum- 
bled down the dark ways of the eternal night below. Some 
of the chambers they illuminated with red and purple and 
yellow lights. One was like a cathedral with fretted roof, 
and pillared by the meeting and joining-together of stalac- 
tite and stalagmite. They tried to fling a ray down into 
St. Ronan’s Well, a circular deep, to which no bottom had 


TO THE CAVE. 


47 


ever been discovered. A rock flung down passed into utter 
silence, and, when it struck, gave up no sound. 

When tired of the cave, they had games and walks and 
talks, and then the lunch spread under the trees; and so 
the day flew on. Who ever knew a day to be long when 
measured off by the laughter and song and play and con- 
versation of young men and women, with a grassy carpet be- 
neath their feet, and a bright sun and a blue sky over their 
heads ? 

At last the party had re-embarked, and the riders were re- 
mounted. Instead of returning the way they came, they 
determined, for the sake of variety, to go home by the river 
road ; and the playful project entered their heads, of letting 
the Eagle Wing get thoroughly under way, and then trying a 
race with her for the to\vn. So, taking position, Mr. Forrest 
waved his hat in air, was answered by fluttering handker- 
chiefs from the steamer, and on they flew. For some dis- 
tance they kept what would have been “neck and neck,” 
supposing the steamer had had a neck ; and then the horses 
got excited. The grays being the faster of the four, Mr. 
Forrest and Miss Hartley soon left their companions out of 
sight round a curve in the road. The wind fairly whistled 
by them, as it does through the rigging of a ship at sea. 
But, so long as the horses seemed happy, their riders cared 
not how fast they sped. Mr. Snyder and Sue Hartley, hav- 
ing given up the chase as useless, had reined in their horses, 
and were coming on by an easy lope, but still out of sight 
on the winding road. Mr. Forrest and Miss Margaret still 
sped on ; when, suddenly turning a sharp curve in the road. 


48 


BLUFFTON. 


her horse caught the quick gleam of a white bowlder that 
sprang into view so quickly, through the half-hiding trees, 
that he had not time to see what it was. He reared and 
plunged for a moment ; but so firmly and naturally did she 
ride, that she seemed in no danger of being unseated. But 
the fright had maddened him ; and now he plunged forward 
so like the wind that even Mr. Forrest could not keep up. 
She tried to rein him in, but he took the bit in his teeth ; 
and as he turned another curve, and shot out of sight under 
the trees, Mr. Forrest saw, with a horror that almost stopped 
the beating of his heart, that one rein was broken, and she 
could control him no longer. He spurred his own horse to 
the utmost, and rushed on in pursuit. What next he saw 
almost paralyzed him. The horse was out of sight ; and the 
whole universe to him was now only that one white, still face 
beside the road. “ O God ! ” he cried, “ she is dead, and I 
have killed her ! ” His head whirled, and the light of 
heaven seemed to go out in awful night, as he not dis- 
mounted, but flung himself from his horse. What he did he 
hardly knew, till he found himself some distance away, sit- 
ting on the grass by a little spring that trickled out of the 
side of the hill, with her head on his knee, and bathing her 
face with the cold water. An hour before, he would have 
thought it presumption to dream of her being his : now his 
heart leaped up and claimed her, and rebelled at fate for 
thus perilling his title. He felt that she was his o\\m, and 
that some horrible power was snatching her away. Was she 
dead ? There was a slight bruise on her temple. She did 
not seem to breathe. He chafed her hands, and felt for her 


TO THE CAVE. 


49 


pulse, which was only a feeble and ‘irregular flutter. He 
called to her, “ Madge ! Madge ! ” in passionate familiarity, 
for love and grief made formality a mockery : “ would God 
I had died for you, or with you ! ” 

The trees on the bank at this point shut out the steamer 
from view ; and the party on board had not seen the acci- 
dent. He tenderly laid her head upon his coat, which he 
stripped off for a pillow, and rushed into the road to see if 
her sister and friend were in sight. They were evidently 
taking the ride leisurely, and were nowhere to be seen. He 
rushed back, and again took her head upon his knee. He 
passionately kissed her forehead, and called to her again to 
see if his voice would wake her. 

The tears fairly started for joy, as she now moved slightly, 
and a half-sigh escaped her. Her eyes opened just a little, 
and then closed again. Her lips moved as if they would 
speak ; but were silent. He watched her breathlessly, with a 
joy and anxiety that did not seek for utterance. At last a 
murmuring came from her lips, that out of inarticulate noth- 
ings shaped broken fragments of speech, — 

“ Mr. For-rest ! Mark ! Save me ! ” 

“ Yes, Madge ! dear Madge ! I’d die to save you. Can 
you hear me ? ” 

But she was still again. The blood now began to mount 
to her cheeks; and, as he watched her, he uttered his 
thought aloud : — 

“ Oh, what a lovely face ! ” 

Just then she roused a little, and, having half-consciously 
caught the last words, said, in a dazed sort of way, — 


50 


BLUFFTON. 


“ Who spoke of love ? ” 

And then she blushed deeply, as she suddenly became 
conscious of where she was, and what she had said. 

Mark saw that she had half caught his secret from those 
dimly-divined words ; and hardly knew whether to be glad 
or sorry to have her guess the truth thus early. But it was 
now no time for any thing but gladness to see her wake, and 
hear her speak again. 

As she roused, and recovered from her faint, the old awe 
with which he regarded her came back : she seemed to slip 
from his hands, and the gulf was between them again. 

“Thank God, Miss Hartley, it is no worse!” he ex- 
claimed. 

At this point, her sister and Mr. Snyder appeared. A few 
words explained all. Astonished that no bones were bro- 
ken, and that she had so soon recovered from the fainting- 
fit into which fear as much as the fall had thro^vn her, they 
found, on examination, that a clump of bushes had broken 
the force of her fall, and still contained fragments of her 
dress. Beside these bushes Mr. Forrest had found her, but 
he was too anxious at the time to notice it. A carriage 
was now procured from a neighboring farmhouse ; and, while 
she leaned upon her sister, Mr. Forrest drove them home. 
Mr. Snyder, riding his own horse, led the other two, and 
found the fourth in his stall. 

When arrived at Mr. Hartley’s house, Mr. Forrest was 
obliged to take the still weak Miss Margaret in his arms, and 
half carry, half assist her to her chamber. He then hastened 
for a physician ; and, learning that probably there was noth- 


TO THE CAVE. 


51 


ing more serious than a nervous shock that would confine 
her to her room and lounge for a few days, he left, with 
many expressions of self-blame for her fall, and of wishes 
for a night of quiet sleep. 


52 


BLUFFTON. 


VI, 


THE CONVALESCENCE. 


.. FORREST slept little that night ; for his brain ran 



T VX on like a music-box wound up, with the case fastened, 
and of which he had lost the key. The tunes it played 
were beyond his control. It wailed or danced, sang hope 
or despair, apparently according to its own mood. And, 
when it did lull enough to let him sleep, it appeared to 
whirl on still in dreams. He rode wild horses, and was 
flung down bottomless abysses. The face of Miss Hartley 
was by his side, he held her hand, and was about to tell her 
his love, when suddenly the figure would fade away, and he 
would find himself alone in some wild place, listening to 
voices of mocking laughter. Again, she was dead, and he, 
as minister, was tortured with the thought that he must 
attend her funeral, while no one knew that it was his right 
to sit broken-hearted as chief mourner. Or it was a wed- 
ding scene in church, where she was bride and he the happy 
groom ; and then suddenly it was some one else that held 
her hand, and he was the minister, in hopeless agony, 
reading the marriage-service that was separating her from 
him forever. 


THE CONVALESCENCE. 


53 


But all mornings break at last, and so did this. As early 
as he thought propriety permitted, he went over to call upon 
her. He was shown up to her room, and found her in 
morning wrapper, upon her lounge, half sunk in easy pillows. 
She was suffering no pain, and was only weak and pale. 
But her sickness so became her, that he thought she never 
looked so beautiful. Her dark masses of loosened hair so 
framed the round, fair face and the lustrous eyes, and mouth 
that was a Cupid’s bow, that he wished he were a painter, 
that he might keep the picture forever. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Margaret,” said he. “ I hope the 
results of my yesterday’s mischief are not serious.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she replied. “ I feel quite well, only they will 
make me lie still.” ^ 

“ Did you sleep ? ” 

“Very well indeed. I always do. A good conscience, 
you know,” she added with a playful smile. 

“No trouble with your conscience in this instance : it is 
my conscience that is now at fault. The whipping furies 
have lashed me severely for putting you in such peril.” 

“ Why, it was no fault of yours. I had a glorious ride, 
and I’d try it again : only I think I would see if the bridle 
was strong.” 

“ You’re a brave girl,” said he ; “ and I am happier than I 
can tell you, to find you so well, and to learn that you do 
not blame me. I shall blame myself, however, just the 
same. And now, to prove that you forgive me, you must 
grant me permission to help assist in your cure.” 

“ That, perhaps, will depend upon your medicine.*’ 


54 


BLUFFTON. 


“Well, I know you are fond of reading, and yet you 
mustn’t read to-day. The hours will be long, if you do 
nothing. May I read to you a while ? ” 

“ But isn’t your parish work taking all your time ? ” 

“ Aren’t you a part of my parish ? And isn’t my first 
duty to the sick?” said he, with a mock solemnity. 

“Yes; but I’ve heard you say you didn’t like parish 
work,” said she archly. 

“•Well, then,” said he laughing, “ since you have such a 
good memory. I’ll spend the day in reading to you ‘ from 
a sense of duty,’ or for any other mentionable motive what- 
soever, only so you will let me have my way.” 

So it was arranged that he was to read. As he rose to go 
to his study for some books, she said, — 

“ If you are to be my servant to-day, will you promise to 
obey orders ? ” 

“ Any thing in the wide world,” said he. 

“ Well, then, read what else you will, but I command you 
to bring along some of your own verses; for I’ve heard that 
you ^vrite.” 

“ I did not think you would use your new-found power in 
tyranny like this so soon. Indeed, I never confessed to being 
a poet.” 

“But people don’t always confess their sins in public. 
I know you ^vrite ; and, if you wish my forgiveness for it, you 
must read me some of your verses.” 

“ If I must, I must : I’ve a few little snatches. And, if 
you make the conditions of my sitting with you so hard, of 
course I must comply.” 


THE CONVALESCENCE. 55 

‘‘ I am inexorable,” she said : “ so you know your fate.” 

He said to himself, as he looked over his portfolio, — 

“If I must read my own lines. I’ll take my revenge by 
making her hear the echoes of my own heart, and see if I 
can thus make out her own. I’ll invent a Hamlet plot, and 
see if her face confesses any care for me.” 

He soon returned. He read first from Tennyson’s “ Prin- 
cess,” and they talked over some of its many problems. 
Then they went over some of the sweeter “ Idyls of the King,” 
and discussed the virtues of knighthood and the old ideals 
of womankind. At last she said,“ Now let me hear your own.” 

“‘Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!’” said 
he, laughing. “ From Tennyson to Forrest, — the author 
only of several unpublished manuscripts. But I may as well 
be slaughtered now as to anticipate it longer.” 

He picked up some loose papers, and continued, — 

“The first is a foolish little song. You know I only 
scratch off rhymes for recreation, and because my thoughts 
will sometimes jingle. I have entitled it 

THE QUESTION. 

‘ Oh ! tell me how to woo and win,’ 

The shepherd sang. The echoes flew 
Adown the vale, now loud, now thin. 

And answered only, ‘ Win and woo I ’ 

* But I am not a shepherd lad : 

So tell me, echo sweet,’ said I, 

‘ How shall my heart’s long wish be had ? * 

* Had — wish you had,’ was its reply. 


56 


BLUFFTON. 


‘ No common word can make her mine ; 

No common love do I adore : 

Toward me does her heart incline ?’ 

But echo would reply no more. 

“ No, Miss Margaret, ” said he as soon as he finished : “ I 
shall not wait, and make you struggle between courtesy and 
veracity ; but, without letting you rest, you must listen again. 
You’ve brought it on yourself, you know. 

WILL LOVE DESCEND? 

A heaven-bom goddess is sweet Love : 

Will she descend to common cares ? 

And breathe our dusty, earthly airs 
In narrow paths, nor pine to rove ? 

She’ll want soft carpets for her feet ; 

She’ll want rich jewels in her hair. 

From out her windows landscapes rare, 

And in must float all perfumes sweet. 

She’d weary of a petty round 
Of household tasks that every day 
Fritter and fret the life away, — 

Though husband worshipped, children crowned. 

Yes, heart that thought the heavens to scale. 

And pluck a star from her bright zone. 

Stars are too high to call thine own ; 

Go, seek a rushlight in the vale.” 


“Well, I can’t let you go on any farther until I protest 
against that,” said she. “ It isn’t a heaven-bom goddess 


THE CONVALESCENCE. 


57 


that looks upon life in that way. True love is always hum- 
ble. I know nothing of men’s hearts ; but it seems to me, 
that, if a woman should love a man, she would always look up 
to him, and be exalted by her love, whatever his station 
might be. Stars that will not shine in vales are no true stars. 
And any man would be degraded who should stoop to what 
he would be compelled to think of as beneath him.” 

“ You think a true woman, then, would marry a man with- 
out regard to his station? ” 

“ Of course I think so.” 

“ But isn’t Tennyson’s line too true ? — 

‘ Every door is barred with gold, and opens but to golden keys.’ ” 

“ I don’t think it is, except with some who can appreciate 
nothing else. It isn’t strange that a woman should like fine 
houses, horses, and money, any more than that a man should, 
I suppose.” 

“ Certainly not.. But what if a man, recognizing that, should 
hesitate to ask a woman’s love because he lacks them ? ” 

“Then he deserves to go without her love. If he has 
brains, or character, why not offer them? A true woman 
must despise a man who thinks she is in the market to be 
sold to the highest bidder. I know some women do sell 
themselves for homes ; but so do men too, for that matter, 
when they hunt for rich wives. « But what are those other 
verses ? ” 

Mark felt that he had learned one thing, at least ; and his 
minister’s lot did not seem so poor as when he feared she 
might have higher worldly aspirations. So he read on, — 


58 


BLUFFTON. 


What shall one do with a hopeless love ? 

If he bury it in his heart, 

Too strong for its prison it will prove, 

And burst its walls apart. 

If he bury it in the sea, ’twill arise 
When the evening love-star gleams. 

And, mocking him with its deathless eyes, 

Will haunt him in his dreams. 

If he bury himself in his books, and seek 
To hide him from its sight, 

’Twill laugh at his Hebrew and his Greek, 

And mock him as in spite. 

If he do not seek its face to flee. 

And yet no hope is given, 

’Twill make of life a misery. 

And make a hell of heaven. 

“We won’t say any thing about that,” said he : “it helps 
pass the time. But here is the last. I have named it, — 

THE CRIME AGAINST LOVE. 

Love was a judge, and he held a court 
With the culprit in the box. 

He had flung him into his jail, — Despair, — 

Close under doubl« locks. 

The crier cried, and the court began. 

The attorney rose and said, — 

‘ The prisoner at the bar, my lord. 

We charge, as shall be read.’ 


THE CONVALESCENCE. 


59 


And he read a long indictment through, 

That charged contempt of love. 

‘ He has spoken slightingly of you. 

As I’ll proceed to prove. 

‘ He has said, “ I’ll travel other lands ; 

I’ll wed my books and lore ; 

Divine philosophy alone 
Shall my fond heart adore. 

‘ “ Love is the passion of weak minds : 

I will not be its slave. 

Love is a blindness of the eyes. 

And it is reason’s grave.” ’ 

The indictment through, the attorney said, — 
‘ My lord, — whom heaven defend 1 — 

If words like these unpunished go, 

Y our kingdom’s at an end.’ 

‘Speak, prisoner!’ then the stern judge cried, 
‘ If you have aught to say.’ 

‘ I did not know you, mighty Love : 

I therefore pardon pray, — 

‘ If ignorance may be excuse.’ 

‘ Then hear me,’ Love replied. 

‘ Go seek the loveliest one you know. 

And by her word abide. 

‘ If she forgives you, then will I ; 

You have six months’ release.’ 

And now he wanders up and down, 

And nowhere findeth peace, 


6o 


BLUFFTON. 


He’s seen the loveliest ; but in vain ! 

He cannot bring his heart 
To risk the trial, lest he die 
If she should say, '•Depart! ’ ” 

*‘Well,” said Miss Margaret, “that is very prettily told. 
If you can write like that, you’ll give the world a volume of 
verse some day. But I don’t think the culprit is specially 
brave; do you?” 

Mark was about to reply ; and perhaps might have owned 
to being the culprit himself, had not the reading been 
suddenly cut short by the calling of some friends who had 
been on the excursion the preceding day. Having learned 
of the accident, they had come to see how seriously she was 
hurt. 

She thanked him heartily for his kindness, and asked him 
to read again ; then, taking his papers and books, he hur- 
riedly withdrew. 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 


6i 


VIL 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 

ND now we must take note of other strands that were 



being woven into the thread of Mr. Forrest’s destiny. 
Life is not all love; and those things that seem farthest 
removed from its tender pleasure and its tender pain are so 
intimately wound up with it in human experience, that we 
cannot understand either strand when taken by itself. As 
one could not comprehend the turbid tide of the Mississippi, 
below its junction with the Missouri, unless he knew that two 
different rivers had become one, so the turbid, mingling, 
dividing, darkening, brightening current of Mr. Forrest’s 
onward career can only be understood as we take note how 
the one stream of his life is henceforth compounded of love 
not only, but also of hope and fear, of inclination and duty, 
of old tradition and new thought, — all in relentless struggle. 
The sphinx’s riddle had been given him to answer ; and he 
felt that he must answer it, to the satisfaction at least of his 
own soul, or conscience, manhood, and self-respect would 
die. And, even if he could have won Miss Hartley with 
a lie in his hand, he would have felt he was offering her a 
hollow, rotten-hearted sham, and not the oak-hearted man- 
hood that she deserved. 


62 


BLUFFTON. 


So all the time since he had been in Bluffton, he had 
been fighting a battle, that, to his thought, meant life or 
death. Several times he had been on the point of offering 
Miss Hartley his hand ; and then had shrunk back, deterred 
by the thought that he had no right to do it until she fully 
knew all that was in his head as well as what was in his heart. 

To find what this was that was in his head, — the elements 
of his great conflict, — we must go back, and take a brief 
glance at the more immediate past. 

It has been already intimated, that, even in the theological 
seminary, Mr. Forrest admitted into his thinking a principle 
fatal to his “ soundness.” He had asserted the ultimate 
principle of Protestantism, “ the right of private ” individual 
“ judgment ; ” and this, not only in interpreting the stand- 
ards of the faith, but even as to the solidity of the founda- 
tions on which rested the faith itself. It is easy enough for 
an unprejudiced outsider to see that the Protestant principle, 
“ the right of private judgment,” leads logically to ration- 
alism. For he who assumes to question the basis of author- 
ity, in that very act becomes a rationalist ; that is, asserts the 
supreme right of reason to pass upon these ultimate prob- 
lems ; and that is what rationalism means. But, like many 
a young man who launches his craft on this Protestant sea, 
and feels in his sails the fresh and inspiring impulse of this 
Protestant free air, he had little thought out over what wide 
and pathless oceans, and under what threatening skies, he 
would drift before he rested again in any quiet harbor. 

In his California life, he had found himself in a free and 
bracing air. Men there cared more for practical religion 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 6 $ 

than for theoretical details of thought. And though he made 
himself, so far as he could, familiar with the best modem 
thought on scientific and critical subjects, he was still so busy 
in practical affairs, that he did not often stop to think whether 
there was place in his old theology for his new ideas. The 
gospel of the Christian life was what he cared for ; and if 
now and then the critical question came up as to whether 
the system of his old faith could stand the strain of his newer 
knowledge, he allowed himself to be easily satisfied with the 
never-failing new exegesis that never hesitated in its attempt 
to reconcile the most seemingly hostile opposites. So he 
entered on his work in Bluffton, supposing himself orthodox, 
so far as he had given it any attention. 

He had been there but a little while, however, before the 
subject loomed up on his mental horizon as a cloud that had 
lightning in it, and threatened storm. Several causes con- 
duced to this ; and now for a little it must be our business 
to trace them. 

On coming to Bluffton, he had come into sharp, practical 
contact with the “ five points of Calvinism embodied in 
the unsympathetic, unyielding angularities of real people. 
The shock of this contact waked him up to the conscious- 
ness that that was not the kind of religion he believed in. 
A man may go on for years supposing himself to be holding 
faithfully to a system of thought that he has inherited and 
learned to reverence, while all the time the play of study 
and experience about it has totally changed its structure, 
and he wakes up to find that the old has disappeared. Just 
as an iceberg starts out, blue and hard and angular, from its 


64 


BLUFFTON. 


northern birthplace among the glaciers : it floats majesti- 
cally and threateningly on, appearing like its original self, 
while all the time the warmer airs have played around it, the 
warmer seas have rippled against its sides, and it has become 
honeycombed through and through. Now let it strike some 
rock of reality, or encounter some ocean storm, and, like a 
mirage, it is gone : the seas have swallowed it forever. 

So Mr. Forrest was rudely roused to the thought that the 
gospel he held and preached was not what was popularly 
held as orthodox. He did not welcome the thought, nor 
yield it an easy victory. All the drift of inheritance and 
tradition was in the old channel. His childhood’s home 
was an orthodox home. The sacred memories of father, of 
mother, of the old fireside circle, of household prayer and 
song, of Sunday bells still chiming in memory over the old 
fields, all seemed bitterly to reproach the new thoughts that 
appeared to be traitor to the old. Loved ones had died 
looking forward to the orthodox heaven, and pleading with 
him to meet them there. Here were the associations and the 
friends of his life. Along this path lay the apparent way to 
the attainment of all his earthly ambitions. Dark shadows 
also from the future seemed to threaten him. He started 
appalled sometimes at the thought, that, after all, these mis- 
givings of his reason might be only the darkened wanderings 
of a fallen nature. The angel of darkness, robed as an 
angel of light, might be thus playing with and tempting his 
soul. He would say, “ Get thee behind me, Satan ! ” 

And then, on the other hand, he would reason, that, from 
the beginning of the world, all who, like Abraliam, like 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 


65 


Jesus himself, like Paul, like Luther, had left a past dear to 
sentiment and rich in precious memories, must have gone • 
through substantially the same struggle of foreboding, of 
doubt, of misgiving. And, the more deeply he thought, the 
more he became convinced that this new light was not a will- 
o’-the wisp, leading him astray, but really the faint streaks 
of a new morning. 

But now he would grow heart-sick at the thought, “ Miss 
Margaret is thoroughly, fixedly orthodox in all her training 
and ways. The new light — if it be from heaven — will 
still lead me away from her.” And this was to him bitterer 
agony than all the rest. He had hours when he felt like 
Adam in “Paradise Lost,” when he found that Eve had 
eaten the apple. The outer wilderness with her would be 
dearer than paradise alone ; and he hardly knew if he 
would enter the open gate of heaven if it meant letting go 
her hand. 

Another thing turned his thought into the same channel. 
He was talking with Judge Hartley one day, concerning the 
practical effects of religion on the life, when he ventured to 
remark, — 

“ There’s one thing, judge, that troubles me immensely in 
my preaching. There are many people in the church not 
half so good as many that are out of it.” 

“ So far as man can see, perhaps it may be so,” cautiously 
answered the judge. 

“ And it seems almost hypocrisy in me to preach to those 
outside as sinners, and exhort them to repentance,” he con- 
tinued, “while the lightning ought to strike inside if any- 


where.” 


66 


BLUFFTON. 


“ But, Mr. Forrest, these outside fair livers are doubtless 
trusting to their own righteousness, which is a broken reed 
There is no evidence that they have the grace of God in 
their hearts.” 

“ If these others had as much of the grace of God in 
their hearts as they pretend, wouldn’t they have a little better 
character among men ? What’s the evidence of grace that 
doesn’t show itself in works?” 

“When one gets to talking too much of works, he is on 
dangerous ground,” said the judge. “ The curse of the law 
is on him who trusts in works.” 

“ But isn’t it a part of Christianity to have works? ” 

“Yes, morals are desirable, even necessary, in a true 
Christian. But they are worth nothing to a man who is not 
converted. They may even be a snare, a soul-destroying 
snare. If a man trusts in them, he is gone. Of course a 
man had better be sober than to be a drunkard ; he had 
better be honest, and pay his debts, than to be a swindler ; 
he had better be kind than cruel in his family. But, after 
all, Mr. Forrest, morals don’t touch the question of salvation. 
The vilest sinner that trusts to the atoning blood is safer 
than the best man that ever lived, who comes into the pres- 
ence of God in his own righteousness.” 

“Why, Judge Hartley,” said Mr. Forrest, “that seems to 
me like putting a premium on immorality.” 

“ Mr. Forrest,” returned the judge, “ however it seems to 
the carnal reason, it is the teaching of divine revelation ; 
and I am astonished that a minister of the gospel should use 
such language.” 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 6/ 

“ Well,” he replied, “ I may be all wrong : but upright 
living is better for this world than a religion that is consistent 
with dishonesty and uncharitableness ; and, since the same 
God rules in the next world who governs this, it seems 
strange that the same principle shouldn’t apply over there.” 

Mr. Forrest had been led on by his own thought, as he 
spoke, to the taking of a more advanced ground than he had 
foreseen when he began; and he found he had shocked 
the judge beyond measure. As they separated, the judge 
remarked, — 

“Mr. Forrest, your first sermon troubled me just a little; 
not what you said, but what you didn’t say. I feared you 
were not quite sound on some important doctrines. But 
you’ve been so manly and successful, that I’d been hoping 
the other side would be soon brought out with no uncertain 
sound. But you mustn’t preach such thoughts as you’ve 
spoken to-day. You would make the whole gospel of no 
effect. What’s the need of the cross, if such things are 
true?” 

And the judge walked sadly away. 

After this Mr. Forrest noticed that he watched him more 
narrowly as he preached, and that he was a little less cordial 
as they met. He found also, little by little, that he had let 
fall a word here and there, and that the more strictly doctrinal 
ones in the church were slightly changed in their manner 
toward him. He was still made formally welcome at his 
house ; though now and then the judge made him remember 
their conversation, by advising him to a prayerful, humble 
study of the divine mystery , of salvation by faith. 


68 


BLUFFTON. 


And one thing more was at this time moulding his pres- 
ent, and so shaping the future. When first roused to face 
the fact, that, for better or worse, his opinions were largely 
changed, he did not follow the denominationally safe method 
of rushing back out of the glare — whether of hell or heaven 
he knew not — that was blinding him, into the quiet shadows 
of the old traditions. Many is the man, in his case, who has 
refused to read what would “ lead him astray.” He has kept 
to denominational papers and reviews and books, and re- 
fused, by sheer force of will, to harbor unwelcome and un- 
settling thoughts. This seemed to Mr. Forrest the course 
of a sneak and a coward, and as such he despised it. But 
it also appeared to him downright dishonesty of thought. 
“ We expect heathen and sceptics,” he would say, “ to drop 
all prejudice, and at least examine our claims. Then I’ll at 
least be as brave. If I can’t hold my religion in daylight. I’ll 
fling it to the bats.” So he began a course of systematic 
reading and study as to the foundations of his belief. He 
soon found that it was whispered about the parish, that he 
“ actually had scientific and Unitarian books in his library ; ” 
and aunt Sally Rawson remarked at the sewing-circle, — 

“ What such things’ll lead to, the Lord only knows.” 

Still he kept on studying and reading. He would have a 
“ reason for the faith that was in him.” 

And he not only read and studied, but he went over with 
his friend Tom all the great questions of the age ; and they 
tried to look at them before and behind. 

As already intimated, he and his friend Tom Winthrop had 
been separated since they left college ; and, while they had 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 


69 


kept up occasional friendly interchanges, neither of them 
had taken the trouble to keep acquainted with the drift of 
the other’s thinking. Mark had known Tom — they were 
still Mark and Tom to each other — as a somewhat fearless 
and independent thinker, even in college ; and as one in- 
clined always to probe things to the bottom, to see what they 
were made of. He was less emotional and enthusiastic than 
Mark ; and at times Mark was inclined to charge him with 
being hard, and even inclined to a slight shade of cynicism, 
in his conclusions. But still he was loving and generous ; 
and only anxious to know that either a thought or a man 
was sound to the core, — no sham, — and he would stand 
by them in good report or ill. He had a keen logical mind, 
and — what is very rare in this world — a keen insight as to 
the value of proof. For it is a strange fact that those men 
— even educated men — are few who can weigh evidence 
carefully, and so tell when a certain proposition is proved to 
be true, and when it is not. Most men’s minds are like ill- 
constructed scales : they turn without much regard to the 
weights. 

With a mind like this, and with a well-prepared basis of 
scholarship, Mark found that his friend had found time, dur- 
ing the years of their separation, to follow out his old lines 
of study. Though busy as a man of business, he had still 
pursued his private investigations. He had even written an 
occasional article of local scientific importance, or had con- 
tributed to some theological discussion in the reviews. Mark 
found him well “up ” in all the great questions of the day; 
and that he not only had very positive opinions of his own. 


70 


BLUFFTON. 


but was quite prepared to do battle in their behalf. He was 
an out-and-out rationalist in his opinions concerning religion, 
though by no means bitter toward the training of his child- 
hood. He had the tolerance of a wise believer in evolution 
toward the past ; and would no more think of quarrelling 
with it than of whipping a boy for not being a man, or find- 
ing fault with the twilight because it wasn’t noon. But, as 
he sometimes said, he had very little respect for a man who 
would keep his eyes shut tight at noon, and take his own 
stupidity for twilight. He felt like shaking such a man 
rather roughly, and telling him to open his eyes. 

All these points, as to the mental condition of his friend, 
Mark gradually discovered as the months of his life in Bluff- 
ton had passed. They had renewed their old intimacy. 
Mark frequently took Monday for his rest-day, and would 
run up to Maple City, and pass it with Tom. And, when 
he could get leisure, Tom would come down and spend half 
a day with him. They would walk and talk together by the 
hour. 

Mr. Forrest’s association with his friend was a new point 
that gave the “ straiter sect ” in the church much trouble. 
Mr. Wintlirop was a gentleman well known in Bluffton as a 
sharp, clear, and by no means orthodox thinker. Particu- 
larly was he obnoxious to Mr. Richard Smiley. 

This Mr. Smiley, to whom we have already seen Deacon 
Putney so obsequious, was what Uncle Zeke called “the 
Great Mogul of the town.” He employed the most men, 
and did the largest business. Though not superintendent, 
he had much to do with the Sunday school. Having an 


OTHER STRANDS IN THE THREAD. 7I 

oily tongue, and a good memory for anecdote, he capti- 
vated the children. In a fifteen-minutes talk he would 
have half of them in tears over the “ dime-novel ” style of 
piety which he cultivated. He gave lavishly to the church 
and public benevolent objects ; and the church bowed down 
at his feet. As being able to bring the most tears, he was 
the favorite speaker in prayer-meeting. He was the pet of 
all the old women of the parish, because he would call, and 
kneel down and pray and cry with them over “ the state of 
Zion.” He had been a sore puzzle to the new minister ; for, 
while stoutest in his defence of traditional orthodoxy, he 
bore a most doubtful repute, as to his business-character, 
among outside business-men. Even Deacon Putney one 
day took Mr. Forrest aside, as they met on the sidewalk, 
and said, — 

“ I tell you what it is : I don’t know what to make of Mr. 
Smiley. When you talk about his being a Christian, to the 
best business-men down town, they think it’s a good joke ; 
and I’ve known of some things myself that weren’t straight. 
And yet, when he talks to me, blamed if he don’t make me 
believe he’s a persecuted saint.” 

This was the man, then, that most strongly and loudly 
objected to his minister’s associating with “an infidel.” 
Mark did not know, at this time, what good reason Mr. 
Smiley had for disliking Mr. Winthrop. 


72 


BLUFFTON. 


VIII. 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 


HE day on which Mr. Forrest had read with Miss 



Hartley was Saturday. On Sunday he was very busy, 
as usual, with his public duties; and on Monday it had 
been arranged that Mr. Winthrop was to spend the day with 
him. He had no time, then, to do more than call at the 
door, send up his regards, and ask after Miss Hartley’s 
health. Finding that she was steadily improving, and was 
likely to be out in a few days, he returned to his study, 
wrote a few letters, and then went down to the levee to meet 
his friend. 

“ Well, Tom, is it up at the study, or off for a walk on the 
hills, this morning?” was Mark’s first greeting as his friend 
stepped off the plank. 

“ I think,” replied Tom, “ it would be almost mcked to 
spend such a glorious Indian-summer day as this in the 
house. Let’s stretch our legs on the hills.” 

They leisurely climbed Bowman’s Hill, and stood for a 
moment to fill their lungs, and take in the wide beauty of 
the scene. 

“Tom,” said Mark, “I’ve been over this country a good 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 


73 


deal ; but, do you know, I’ve never seen weather so fine as 
the fall here in Bluffton : not even California excels it.” 

“Yes,” replied Tom : “I do think it is unequalled. Just 
look over the river and the prairie yonder. The still air in 
the yellow sunlight is just liquid gold. And then it con- 
tinues so, day after day, for weeks.” 

“ Suppose,” said Mark, “ we take a run up the river, then 
strike inland and make the circuit of the hills, and come out 
on the bluff below the town. We haven’t been up there yet 
together ; and it is perhaps the finest view the city can 
boast.” 

So off they started. In a couple of hours they had made 
a round of six or eight miles, and stood on the crown of the 
great bluff. They now sat down to rest, and look about 
them. For a time they drank in the scene in silence. The 
city was at their feet ; and it came so close to the foot of 
the bluff on one side, that they could have flung down a 
stone upon the roofs of the houses. On the river-side where 
they sat upon a knoll that formed a natural shelf, the bluff 
sank sheer down a hundred and fifty feet, to where the river 
rippled against the pebbles on the shore. A steamer was 
just passing ; and they could almost have leaped upon its 
deck. Through the valley two or three miles away beyond 
the city, a train of cars was winding along like a serpent, and 
silently approaching the town. The little people, for such 
they looked from their high seats, were hurrying to and fro in 
the streets beneath, while Mark and Tom could easily ima- 
gine themselves like gods on Olympus, calmly overlooking 
the turmoil in which they had no part. 


74 


BLUFFTON. 


Here they sat, and fell into a long conversation, like many 
in which, during these times, they had been engaged. 

“ Mark, do you notice that long line of low bluffs about 
six miles away, across the prairie beyond the river, and run- 
ning parallel with it north and south as far as we can see ? ” 
“Yes.” 

“Well, that must be the old bank of the river, which ages 
ago filled this whole basin, and covered the place where all 
these farms and towns and railroads now are.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ ‘ Think ’ isn’t the word : I know so. The waters have 
left the story of their own past work. The whole prairie 
yonder is a river-deposit ; and the wave-marks are on the 
bluffs.” 

“ How long ago do you reckon it was ? ” 

“ Oh ! several thousand years. In geological time, ages 
are minutes ; and a few more or less don’t matter.”^ 

“ You do not believe much in Moses, then, I suppose.” 

“ Believe in Moses,” said Tom : “ why should I ? ” 

“ Why should you not ? Couldn’t God inspire a man to 
write a record of His work? ” 

“ The question isn’t whether he could, but whether he did; 
and that is a question of fact, to be settled on the evidence. 
Now Moses — or Genesis — says God created the world in 
six days, about six thousand years ago. And yet Niagara 
Falls are thundering in the ears of all the world, that will 
listen, the fact that it has taken at least two hundred thou- 
sand years for it to cut through a couple miles of rock from 
the present fall to the end of the rapids.” 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 75 

“But what of the new interpretation of Genesis, that 
makes the six days six periods of indefinite length ? ” 

“ Only a make-shift. The record says distinctly days, with 
evening and morning. And if the word ‘ day ’ doesn’t mean 
day, how do you know what any other word means ? And 
then the order of the world’s growth does not agree with the 
Mosaic account, in spite of all the Procrustes stretching and 
clipping. And there is one principle I think it is safe to go 
by. Whether God wrote the Bible, or not, one thing we do 
know, the world is his work : nature is his book. What that 
says, then, is true, whether all the old-world guesses and 
dreams about it are true or not.” 

“ But do you think that Moses ^vrote what he knew was 
not true ? ” 

“ Now, look here, Mark, that starts a large question. Let’s 
go over the Bible a little, and see what we really know about 
it.” 

“ At any rate, we know how long it has stood against all 
assaults, and how it has guided and comforted men.” 

“True enough so far : so have the Veda and the Tripitaka 
and Confucius and the Koran held their own ; all but the 
last one, longer than the Bible. And they to-day comfort 
more people than all Christendom, several times over. W^ 
mustn’t think we are everybody in the world.” 

“ But at least the Bible is the book of civilization.” 

“ Yes, because the races that have the Bible happen to be 
the ones that have in them the stuff to make a civilization 
out of.” 

“ You do not think the Bible, then, the cause of civiliza- 


tion.” 


76 


BLUFFTON. 


“ Why should I, when its firmest adherents have fought 
advancing civilization at every step? ” 

“But that is the re-actionary spirit of Roman-Catholic 
conservatism.” 

“ No, Mark, not at all. Protestantism in the churches 
has fought science as bitterly as Romanism. Luther was as 
severe against the knowledge that did not accord with his 
notions of revelation as ever the Pope was. Did you never 
read how he abused and ridiculed those who dared to think 
the world was round, and had inhabitants on the other 
side? ” 

“ I had not noticed it.” 

“Well, what but that is the history of orthodoxy all 
through ? It fights every thing new as long as it can. Then 
it re-interprets the Bible, and finds it all there, and benevo- 
lently takes it under the wing of revelation. It won’t be ten 
years before a fast and firm alliance will be patched up be- 
tween even Danvin and Moses. Moses will be made out the 
original Darwinian. Just so they treated Newton : they cursed 
his gravitation as long as they could ; and now for two hun- 
dred years have been using the great law to glorify the Jew- 
ish conception of a God who taught a flat world ‘ founded on 
the seas and established on the floods.’ ” 

“ But is it not significant, that the Bible nations are the 
only ones to make progress ? ” 

“ First, it isn’t true ; and, next, if it were it would not be 
strange. The Bible didn’t create religion : religions create 
Bibles. The highest, most moral, and most intellectual 
nations will produce the highest and purest sacred books ; 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 7/ 

just as the most intellectual nations produce the grandest 
epics, dramas, and works of art. 

“But look here, Mark, let us look the Bible over, and 
see what claims it actually makes, and what its character 
really is. If there is any reason why we should always 
be fenced in with texts, all right : if not, then let us look 
over God’s universe freely, and see things as they are, and 
not as people ages ago thought they were.” 

“ Well,” said Mark, “ I have a thousand reasons for wish- 
ing to believe the Bible ; but I were a coward to shrink from 
investigating it. If it is God’s book, it will bear looking at.” 

“What proof is there, then, that it is inspired?” 

“ Of course no intelligent man now holds the old theories 
of inspiration. Old Dr. Owen, you know, held that even 
the Massoretic points in the Hebrew must be inspired, or 
else we had no certainty as to its meaning. The verbal 
theories are now abandoned.” 

“ But Dr. Owen was right,” said Tom. “ And, if it isn’t 
verbal, it is all afloat. You say you only hold its essential 
teaching. But Christendom has never agreed as to what 
that is ; and now men, getting cornered on its scientific mis- 
takes, say it is only inspired to teach morals. But its morals, 
even, are not always the best. So the cloud foundation 
shifts. Does the Bible claim to be inspired? ” 

“It says, ‘All scripture is given by inspiration of God, 
and is profitable,’ &c.” 

“ Beg your pardon, but it doesn’t,” replied Tom. “ Bishop 
Ellicott says the passage ought to read : ‘ All scripture, 
that is given by inspiration of God, is profitable, ’ &c. It 


78 


BLUFFTON. 


doesn’t say what scripture ; and since, when that was 
written none of the New Testament was gathered, it couldn’t 
refer to that, in any case.” 

“ But the writers claim to have had divine guidance. Do 
you think they lied? ” 

“ No : I think they were mistaken. The people of all the 
early ages supposed themselves to receive divine messages. 
They thought dreams and ecstasies, and all abnormal and 
mysterious manifestations of power and life, indicated super- 
natural presences and communications. I do not think any 
of the old religious founders and prophets, in any nation, 
were conscious impostors. They took for divine what we 
now know to be natural : that is all.” 

“ But,” said Mark, “ how did a man living in Moses’ time 
have such exalted ideas of God’s nature and character, when 
all the rest of the world was in deep darkness ? He must 
have been supernaturally illuminated.” 

“ That starts just what I wanted to say. It is now settled 
conclusively, by modem criticism, that Moses was not the 
author of the Pentateuch, at all. In its present shape it is the 
product of the highest and latest thought of the Hebrew race. 
The grandeur of the first verse of Genesis represents the 
highest peak of Jewish civilization, and not the low starting- 
point. The Pentateuch is full of traces of a later age. It is 
just as if we should find in Shakspeare references to the 
telegraph and ocean-steamers. The five books are full of 
the finger-marks of the few centuries just preceding Christ. 
And then, what would be thought in a court of justice, of 
such proof as that on which men take the Old Testament? ” 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 


79 


“ Why, what do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean this : Nearly the whole Old Testament is anony- 
mous. It is a national literature. Nobody knows who wote 
it, nor where nor when : only that we know it was not writ- 
ten — the most of it — in the way popularly supposed. It 
is just a mass of traditions, national legends, and wonder- 
stories, wrought into its present shape by unknown hands.” 

“ But a moment ago you spoke disparagingly of its morals. 
It is often urged as conclusive proof of its inspiration, that it 
is a ^morally-winnowed' book.” 

“ ‘ Morally-winnowed,’ indeed ! It isn’t pleasant business 
to pick flaws in the morals of the Bible ; but it is safe to 
say that the average tone of society to-day is infinitely 
above the ordinary levels of the Old Testament. The char- 
acter of Yahweh himself is such that he would not make 
a respectable citizen of Bluffton to-day. Study it carefully, 
and see. What of the morals of God’s commanding the 
Jews to capture and sack a city, to kill all the men, married 
women, and children, and keep, the virgins for the vilest pur- 
poses ? ” 

“ Is that in the Old Testament? ” 

“You haven’t read it carefully if you haven’t found it. 
What of the morals of polygamy and slavery? What of the 
morals of supporting God’s temple by bands of prostitutes, 
as the Greeks did that of Venus? What of the morals of 
the hundred and ninth Psalm? what of human sacrifices 
practised clear down to the eighth century B. C. ? what of a 
cruel, jealous, revengeful God? Morals !” he exclaimed in 
some excitement, “ if a heathen nation were found practis- 


8o 


BLUFFTON. 


ing Old-Testament morality, there would be new activity in 
the Bible Society to send them a new religion. These things 
are overlooked in the Bible, because a part of them are veiled 
in an obscure translation, and partly because people read 
with such a veil of superstitious reverence that they cannot 
see any defect in the idol they worship,” 

“ But, whatever you think of the Old Testament, you must 
admit the divinity in the New.” 

“ Well, let us see. Even some of the best orthodox crit- 
ics — like Professor Smith of Aberdeen — admit that the 
Gospels are only ‘ non-apostolic digests ’ of earlier traditions. 
Such a man as Baring-Gould, orthodox and High-Church 
chaplain of the Queen, confesses that the New Testament is 
only ‘the expression of the belief of the early Church.’ 
No one knows who wrote either of the Gospels, except that 
it is pretty well known that John did not write the one attrib- 
uted to him by after-tradition. Nearly the whole New Tes- 
tament is anonymous, except the few genuine Epistles of 
Paul. And, even if it were not so, it only means that per- 
sons sixteen or seventeen hundred years ago believed so and 
so. I can’t see why that is any reason why I should believe 
the same, apart from any evidence,” 

“ But the morality of the New Testament ” — 

“ Isn’t absolute,” broke in Tom, “ any more than the Old. 
A man like Beecher confesses that it would overthrow soci- 
ety to put into wide practice the Sermon on the Mount. 
It is a beautiful ideal; but much of the best of modem 
civilization has come from not obeying it.” 

“What do you mean? ” said Mark. 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 


8i 


“Why, for instance, Christ forbids struggling for your 
rights, and commands non-resistance. Now, the whole prog- 
ress of English liberty and the rights of man has come from 
disobeying it. It commands meekness and self-abnegation. 
All advance has come from self-development, and the Occi- 
dental spirit of daring, so opposed to the Oriental mysticism 
out of which the doctrines spring.” 

“Well,” said Mark, “what else?” 

“ Not much more now, but only a word or two as illustra- 
tion. Jesus teaches communism and against property. Civ- 
ilization is based on the exact opposite of such teaching. 
It might be easy enough in the out-door life of Galilee to 
live like lilies and sparrows, ‘ taking no thought ; ’ but it 
won’t do here. And even there somebody had to work, and 
think, and plan ahead, or even the sparrows would have gone 
hungry. 

“And then, Paul’s morality is far from faultless. His doc- 
trine of women is thoroughly degrading. They are only for 
the use of men, to keep those from being immoral who are 
not strong enough to lead a celibate life. He laid the foun- 
dation for all the monasticism of the middle ages.” 

“ Well, Tom,” said Mark, “ you notice I’ve let you do all 
the talking ; for I wanted to hear the utmost you would say. 
I’ve only asked questions enough to keep you moving. 
Don’t think I can swallow it all.” 

“ Don’t swallow any of it until you are sure it is true,” 
replied Tom. 

“No,” said Mark ; “ and when, if ever, I am convinced it 
is true, I will not shrink. Truth only is God; and truth 
must be followed, even if the Bible is lost.” 


82 


BLUFFTON. 


“ But you don’t lose the Bible. Why will men talk in that 
way? You only find it : you find what it is. It isn’t strange 
that it should have errors, and lower ideas of morals, if it is 
a human work. And then, the fact that so much of psalm 
and prophet and gospel and epistle is grand and noble 
and inspiring, gives the grandest promise for humanity, 
the moment you allow it to be a human work. The human- 
ity that makes a Bible in its infancy, what may it not be in 
its fully-developed manhood?” 

“But, Tom, it touches me more closely than you can 
think. It is every thing to me, — religion, my past life, my 
future prospects, and” — hesitating — “something I hardly 
dare think of.” 

“ Why, what is it? ” 

“ You remember your thoughtless remark about the judge’s 
daughter, as we stood on the levee ? ” 

“ Yes ; but what has she to do with this? ” 

“ Every thing. I haven’t spoke to you about it before, 
because I did not wish to confess my care for her until I 
had some reason to think she cared for me. I love her 
madly. I ^/link she is not indifferent to me. But she 
would think me lost forever, did she know my religious 
thoughts, and guess the possibility of my becoming a here- 
tic.” 

“Why don’t you tell her, and see? ” 

“I’m a coward.^ I can’t bear to think of paining her. 
And the judge would never consent. He’d think hell 
yawned beneath his daughter’s feet.” 

“ Are you engaged ? ” 


MARK AND TOM TALK. 


83 


“No; and I can’t think it quite honest to ask her hand 
till she knows my doubts, and where my convictions may 
'lead me.” 

“Well, Mark, old fellow,” said Tom sympathetically, “I 
believe, if I had known all this, Td have almost talked on the 
other side. At least, I wouldn’t have tried to influence you 
any.” 

“ But, my dear fellow, don’t think you are the cause of all 
my doubts. You only echo to me what is in all the air ; 
what learned books are saying. I have been thinking and 
studying this long while, and I am not afraid to face facts.” 

“And yet,” remarked Tom, “the tragic side of these 
things comes over me sometimes as horrible. In a world 
like this, it costs fearfully to follow truth. The world has paid 
its pioneers and leaders generally with tombstones, after re- 
fusing them bread. Jesus said you couldn’t follow him, in 
his day, without ‘ giving up all : ’ it’s the same to-day.” 

“But, Tom, let’s go home for some lunch. We’ve sat here 
long enough.” And as they went down the bluff, and up the 
streets, they continued their conversation. At last, just be- 
fore they got to his boarding-house, Mark said, — 

“ Well, of one thing I am sure : righteousness is better 
than unrighteousness ; and, whatever becomes of the records, 
I believe in the ever-present spirit and the everlasting love of 
God. That’s enough to preach for a while. I will busy my- 
self in the practical work of trying to make my people better, 
and let the ferment of my mind work itself clear. So much 
is safe, any way.” 


84 


BLUFFTON. 


IX. 

A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 

T he resolve at which Mr. Forrest arrived, at the close 
of the last chapter, gave him at least a temporary rest 
from his struggle with doubt. He had had hours when he 
had felt as though he could preach no longer. He seemed 
to be climbing the shifting side of a mountain of sand, that 
gave way at every step. He could find no solid place on 
which to plant his feet. And yet he must struggle on. He 
had left the quiet of tradition. He could not now go back, 
for he knew too much of the real uncertainty of those things 
that tradition takes for granted. The only course open was 
for him to press forward until he gained that other calm that 
comes of intelligent conviction. 

But he could find — as others have done — a temporary 
peace by taking refuge in the practical, though he after- 
wards learned that no deep thinker can permanently rest so 
long as the theoretical and practical are out of harmony. 
But for the time he flung his doubts aside. He walked his 
study, and thought aloud : — 

Whatever else is doubtful, there is no doubt about the 
Golden Rule. What the world means by practical Christian- 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 85 

ity is practical righteousness ; and by that law every intelli- 
gent man is bound. Wherever it came from, whatever theory 
is held concerning inspiration, or the nature of Christ, on 
which it is supposed historically to rest, still Christianity is 
a fact. And every man ought to be a practical Christian, 
because that means loving God and your fellow-men. This, 
after all, is the heart of the whole matter ; and in this spirit 
I will preach and work.” 

In such a mood it was easy for him to persuade himself 
that his theological troubles were, after all, not of chief im- 
portance, and that they did not necessarily touch the great 
essentials of life. His natural temperament was buoyant and 
hopeful, and so he was inclined to make too little of a trouble 
that was past. He even began to wonder that he had allowed 
it to trouble him so much. And he sat down at his desk, 
and sketched a sermon for the next Sunday that he would 
preach “ to doubters ; ” and in it he planned to take the 
ground, that, whatever theoretical difficulties any one might 
have, all were agreed that they should help build up “ the 
kingdom of heaven ” on earth, and that was the essential 
thing in religion. 

He hardly knew it himself ; and yet, to one who could have 
analyzed his motives, it would have been apparent that love 
was one of the main links of his logic. “ For, since these 
things are so,” he thought, “ I have been a fool to think I 
would be doing Miss Margaret a wrong to tell her of my 
love. We shall be practically agreed in the work of life. 
And if, as I cannot help hoping, she really cares for me, I 
might even be doing her an injury to turn away from her on 
account of a theological whim.” 


86 


BLUFFTON. 


Do not blame him too severely, O reader, for his apparent 
inconsistency. Much 'may be forgiven to love. And, even 
if not, who of us but has sometimes seen the strong horse. 
Logic, harnessed in unconscious sophistries, and reined and 
driven by inclination ? 

Miss Margaret was now quite herself again. The won- 
drously beautiful autumn weather continued, a hazy, golden 
Indian summer, without a thought of chill in the balmy air. 
In front of the house was a narrow lawn, which extended 
widely on each side, and stretched far back at the rear. 
Tall elms and spreading chestnuts were scattered about 
irregularly, having the charm of native wildness, while the 
ground beneath was kept like a garden. Little lawn and 
croquet parties were common where the facilities were so 
tempting : so, on one of these fine autumn afternoons. Miss 
Hartley invited some of the young people of the society to 
tea, and to the croquet- matches that were to follow. Natu- 
rally Mr. Forrest was among the number. Being skilful in 
all games and out-door sports, having a ready fund of wit 
and anecdote, no such company was quite complete without 
him. And then it was proper and customary to invite the 
minister, particularly as he was young and single. We may 
guess, also, that possibly Miss Hartley may have had another 
and a more personal motive ; for the young people — who 
have eyes for such things — had taken note of the fact that 
she seemed to take pleasure in his company ; and aunt 
Sally Rawson had remarked in the sewing-circle, — 

“ I wonder if none on ye hain’t noticed it. Sure’s yer 
bom, the minister’s shinin’ up to Judge Hartley’s oldest gal; 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 8/ 

and they say she ’pears to like it’s well’s he does. Reckon 
that’s the reason he ain’t called on me fer more’n a month. 
I hope, when he gits settled down, he’ll find time to ’tend to 
his parish work a leetle better.” 

But, in blissful unconsciousness of sewing-circle criticisms, 
Mr. Forrest accepted the invitation to the croquet-party. 
Nor did he trouble himself about the motive that prompted 
his invitation. He was only too glad of any reason that 
brought him near Miss Hartley ; and he had already begun 
to reproach himself that he had not made better use of his 
opportunities at the readings, to find out whether his guesses 
and hopes concerning her were true. 

Tea passed, as such teas do, in pleasant chat about “ airy 
nothings ; ” except that now and then the judge tried, with 
poor success, to give the conversation a theological turn, as 
following the bent of his own inclinations, and what he also 
considered the proprieties when a minister was present. But 
in the party of young and spirited people there was too 
much of the flesh-and-blood life of this world to incline 
them to take kindly to discussions about the other. 

When tea was over they all adjourned to the lawn, some 
to promenade and talk, some to sit under the trees and look 
on. The grounds were large enough to admit of several 
croquet-sets, and so of several different parties at the play. 
Mr. Forrest and Miss Hartley, well matched as to skill, were 
among the best players on the grounds, and so were rarely 
allowed to play together on the same side. 

At last they had distinguished themselves so well, that 
some one proposed they should play alone, one against the 


88 


BLUFTTON. 


Other, for the evening’s championship ; and gayly they entered 
upon the pleasant contest. Mr. Forrest, being the stronger 
of the two, might have had an advantage in striking, and 
especially in croqueting his opponent’s balls ; but of course 
he was too chivalrous to take it. At the same time he con- 
sidered it a poor compliment to her, and a real lack of 
respectful courtesy, to give her a not-fairly-won game by 
purposely playing poorly. So he determined to do his best. 

They began, and played very evenly down the field to the 
first stake ; and then, as they turned up on the home play, 
a curious and superstitious feeling came over him, that some- 
how, as he struck the balls, he was driving about his own 
destiny, and that winning or losing here was winning or 
losing Miss Hartley forever. 

There was something in the time and the air that helped 
the weird sensation. It was now twilight, with a rising moon, 
as yet behind an eastern hill, though its light was soft and 
beautiful on the tops of the trees and the hills to the west. 
And then his love for her was now grown so great that even - 
the slightest and most fanciful thing that in any way con- 
nected itself with her relations to him took on a most exag- 
gerated importance. 

Lest his fancy should seem too fantastic, it will be well 
for us to remember that there is something of the fetish-wor- 
shipper still left in us all ; something of the feeling that in 
the world’s childhood, and among credulous and undevel- 
oped people still, makes it easy to attach a magical and un- 
reasonable importance to charms, to relics, and to fanciful 
coincidences. When calm, and in daylight, many men and 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 89 

women will laugh merrily over things, that, in reason’s de- 
spite, they pay a sort of superstitious regard to when nervous 
or weary, or in the silence and weirdness of night. People 
still regard Fridays, and seeing new moons over left shoul- 
ders, and thirteen at table, who would be ashamed to de- 
fend themselves for doing it. Dr. Johnson could bend all 
his ponderous learning to a care to enter a room right 
foot first, or to touching all the posts by the wayside with 
his cane as he passed. Byron’s boldness became cowardice 
when salt was spilled at table. Similar whims or fancies 
have their times of dominating us all. Thus is our civiliza- 
tion still branded with the birthmark of the old world’s 
superstitions. 

It must not be supposed that Mr. Forrest held his whim- 
sical fancy as sober fact, even in his own mind. Being 
absorbed in the play, and musing and dreaming deeply of 
his passionate love, he simply felt the fantastic spell of the 
idea creep over him, and did not care to resist it. Fie let 
Ais weird fancy run on, and whisper to his anxious love that 
he was playing for the high stake of her hand and the happi- 
ness of a life. So he played in quiet and as if spell-bound. 
He was proud that she played so well ; and yet it was with 
a sort of despair that he saw her take the lead. And when 
her ball passed through the last wicket, and rebounded from 
the sharp stroke by which it was driven against the home 
stake, so absorbed was he in his revery that he exclaimed, — 

“ Oh, heaven ! I’ve lost her ! ” 

He had felt cut by a sharp pang at his heart, as though 
some demonic power had seized her forever out of his sight. 


90 


BLUFFTON. 


He was really startled to find what an impulse he had felt 
to seize upon her before she should be spirited away. He 
looked about with some confusion as he became conscious 
of what he had said, and was relieved to see that only Miss 
Hartley had noticed his words. A strange look on her face 
made him think that she guessed the half-understood utter- 
ance had some reference to herself ; but of course she made 
no allusion to it. 

“Hurrah,” said Miss Sue, “for the honor of our sex! 
Madge has won the game ! ” 

“ It’s only a short-lived victory,” said Miss Margaret ; 
“ for Mr. Forrest hasn’t played his best to-night.” 

“ Well,” chimed in the other girlish voices, “ we’ll triumph 
while we may. A victory is a victory, for one night at 
least.” 

“A victory well earned,” said Mr. Forrest. “No one 
shall dispute or deny the honors. Miss Margaret has the 
field ; and to no other would I more readily yield up my 
mallet, and submit as the conquered must.” 

And so the playful chat went on. But soon the conrpany 
had dispersed, all but Mr. Forrest and Miss Margaret, for 
Miss Sue had herself stepped into the house. 

“ Come, Miss Margaret,” said Mr. Forrest, “ the night is 
too lovely to go in as yet. Now that you have beaten me 
so badly, would it not be magnanimous in you to grant me 
a favor? ” 

“ After my triumph, of course I ought to feel gracious 
and condescending. What favor? ” 

“ A stroll over the hill yonder, toward the moon and the 
river. It is so mild, you cannot take cold.” 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 9 1 

“ If you ask nothing harder than that, you will make it a 
pleasure to comply. I think, myself, it is too bad to lose an 
evening like this in the house.” 

And so tlirough the moonlight and the shadows the two 
young and hopeful hearts went slowly up the sloping hill- 
side toward the east. The outer landscape of which they 
were a part was wondrously beautiful ; but the inner world 
of high and pure imagination and brilliant hope, through 
which they moved together, was an enchanted land of ro- 
mance and beauty. Is there any thing on earth so fair as 
the worlds that are created by youthful and pure love ? He 
would have given all he possessed, to know that the fair 
creature beside him could find it in her heart to keep step 
with him on the pathway of life. And she — shall we re- 
veal it? — knew, by her woman’s instinct, that the strong 
and noble man by her side was her slave ; but in her soul 
she looked up to him, and crowned him as the king of all 
the men she had ever seen. 

They made a beautiful picture in the tender light. As the 
ascent of the hill grew steeper, she leaned happily upon his 
offered arm ; and, though usually looking down or at the new 
scene of loveliness that opened at every step, now and then 
she stole a quick glance at his face, and tried to guess his 
thoughts. He was the image of strong, straight, and vigorous 
manhood. Her lithe and graceful form, covered but not 
concealed by the light crocheted shawl thrown loosely about 
her shoulders, was fit for a sculptor’s model. Her dark eyes 
glowed in the shadow, or gleamed as the moonlight shone 
full in upon her face. He only wished such night and such 
companionship might never end. 


92 


BLUFFTON. 


“Miss Madge,” said he, breaking the happy silence, — 
“ if I may dare to be so familiar,” — 

“ Yes, call me Madge : I’ve often wished you would,” said 
she. “ It brings back the old school-days, and makes me a 
little girl again.” 

“ And yet I wouldn’t have you a little girl again.” 

“Why not?” 

“ Because you would not be what you are,” he replied. 

They now stood on the crown of the hill ; and they invol- 
untarily stood still. 

“ And this is in the night, most glorious night I 
Thou wert not sent for slumber 1 ” 

exclaimed Mr. Forrest. “Just see what a night, and what 
a picture ! The city is now at our feet. See the sharp con- 
trast of brilliant house-tops and dark-shadowed streets. How 
still the busy life has become ! ” 

“ And the sky,” said Madge : “ it is so bright that hardly 
a star dares try to rival the moon. How vivid those lines 
of Wordsworth ! — 

‘ The moon doth with delight 

Look round her when the heavens are bare.’ ” 

“ And only look at the river ! ” said he. “ No one knows 
how beautiful water can be till he sees it on such a night as 
this. The high bank throws out there a ragged shadow; 
and all the rest is polished silver. The brown bluff yonder, 
and the shadowy prairie beyond, make the contrasts per- 
fect.” 

“ Here, under these trees, are some rocky seats. Let’s 
sit down, and enjoy the scene for a little,” said she. 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 93 


When they were seated together Mark said, — 

“ It makes my heart ache still, to think what I suffered the 
last time I was as near to you as this.” 

“ If proximity to me is painful, I will move,” said she 
with an air of saucy banter. 

“ Now, it is too bad to torture my meaning so, even in 
fun,” said he. “You can never know what I suffered.” 

“Why, how do you mean, and when? ” said she, pretend- 
ing an ignorance that was hardly real. 

“ Do you not know that I mean when I held your head 
on my knee, and watched in an agony of suspense to see 
your breath come back? I should have hated life unless 
you had breathed again.” 

He noticed that she blushed faintly in the moonlight as 
she said, — 

“ You did not tell me before that my head had been in 
your lap.” 

“ But I had a right,” said he in self-defence, “ for I was 
your physician then.” 

He drew closer to her, and gently took the hand that lay 
in her lap, and which she did not withdraw. 

“ Madge,” said he in a lower tone, “ do you know, that, 
when you were unconscious, you called me Mark, and clung 
to me as if I were your protector ? ” 

She did not answer, except by a far-away look in her eyes, 
and a hardly-perceptible flutter of her prisoned hand ; and 
Mark continued, — 

“ And do you know, that, when the blood came back in 
your face, I was the happiest man alive ? and that since that 


94 


BLUFFTON. 


time, whether looking at you in church, or walking or talk- 
ing or reading with you, I have been trying to guess a 
riddle that only you can answer, and that means life or 
death to all I care for in the world ? ” 

“ Was it being absorbed in trying to guess that riddle, that 
made you play so badly at croquet to-night?” said she. 

“ Did I play worse than usual? ” 

“ Never so poorly, or I shouldn’t have won. I know you 
were dreaming, for you talked in your dream.” 

“ O Madge ! ” said he, “ it was a horrible fancy for a mo- 
ment.” 

“ What was horrible ? ” 

“ I thought I had lost — what was not mine to lose ; and 
yet the wild fancy almost broke my heart.” 

“ Why, what do you mean, Mr. Forrest? ” said she, glan- 
cing in his face, and then quickly looking away again. 

“ I mean,” said he passionately, “ whatever I say, and 
whatever I do, I mean always but one word : only that one 
word is the universe to me : I mean — /ove, dear Madge ! 
Oh, do not speak at all. Miss Hartley, if you must say what I 
dread ! and yet do speak ; for I cannot wait longer to know 
if my dream is a lie.” 

She did not speak; but, turning and looking up in his 
eyes one moment, the tears started, and her head sunk on his 
shoulder. He clasped her in his arms, and held her close 
to his heart, both of them too happy to care for speech. 
For perhaps it is true that two persons never know each 
other perfectly till they can be completely happy in the mere 
fact of companionship, without feeling the need of words. 


A GAME OF CROQUET, AND WHO WON. 95 

What they said and did in the moments that followed, 
lovers need not be told, and others have no business to 
know. It was a beautiful world, of prairie and river and 
bluff and town, lighted by the moon, of which these happy 
lovers were a part ; but within and before was a world that 
was fairer still, illumined with a light that “ never was on sea 
or land.” At last Mr. Forrest said, — 

“ Come, Madge, — for here I renounce the Margaret for- 
ever, — they’ll be wondering what is become of us. We 
must return to the house.” 

And, as they went, the new love created for them a “ new 
heaven and a new earth.” They were new-born son and 
daughter of God, treading the fair, moon-kissed world, not 
envying even the angels ; for were they not dwellers, too, in 
one of the starlit rooms of the divine house where the 
Father of both angels and men had given them their beauty 
and their bliss ? 


96 


BLUFFTON. 


X. 


THE ^^NTSTER IN HIS WORK. 


HE autumn flew on ; for to Mr. Forrest its wings were 



-L well matched, love for his work, and love for Madge. 
His individual and private love, instead of hindering his uni- 
versal, only broadened and deepened it, as giving him loftier 
and sweeter conceptions of the meaning and possibilities of 
human life. 

Madge was troubled with only one thing, and this she did 
not reveal to him. Her father, the judge, when he learned of 
the engagement, gave a not over hearty consent. He was 
democratic enough to be willing to see her marry a man with 
no great means or high social position ; but so intense was 
his dogmatic belief and zeal, that he would grimly have 
buried her, as though making her an offering to the Lord, 
rather than see her wedded to one with liberal — that to him 
meant infidel — tendencies. So he said to her, — 

“ I hope it will all turn out right, Margaret ; but I fear, I 
fear. The best thinkers look upon our minister as danger- 
ously tolerant towards error. He may come out of it ; but, 
if not, it must not be. ‘ Be ye not unequally yoked together 
with unbelievers,’ saith the Lord. So I charge you to use 


THE MINISTER IN HIS WORK. 9/ 

wiiot mfluence you have over him, to keep him in the way 
of sound doctrine." 

ilorgaret said not a word of this to Mr. Forrest, but only 
shut ft up as a pain in her heart. For, while she loved him 
devotedly, she also idolized her fiither, and believed thor- 
oughly fn his opinions, knowing no reason why she should 
beheve otherwise. While not lacking in intellect, but, on 
die contrary, having more than usual brain, she was yet, like 
most women, strongest on the side of sentiment, reverence, 
and fove. She was not even familiar with theological distinc- 
tions, having no taste nor training that way. If she had seen 
a heresy, she would hardly have known it. And yet she was, 
by inheritance and training, thoroughly and strictly ortho- 
dox. She had been taught that all honest and sound think- 
ing was the same. So, in her heart, she resented the impu- 
tation against Mark, as though his moral character or his 
mental ability had been impugned. If it were so, she could 
not love him less, but she would pity, and try to save. 

But Mr. Forrest knew nothing of these things ; and, for 
the time, he had flung his doubts and troubles aside. 

.As the weather grew cold, the religious fervor of the 
churches grew warm. To one who regards the natural phi- 
losophy of religious excitement and revival work, there is 
nothing strange in the feet that all revivals occur in the win- 
tt^, and that they are most marked in times of popular de- 
pression ; but fix)m the supernatural standpoint it is a little 
puzzling to see why God doesn’t “ save souls ” in the sum- 
mer, and to trace the relation between the Holy Ghost and 
distress in the money-market. 


98 


BLUFFTON, 


But the time for the annual revival had come, and the 
churches set their machinery in motion. Mr. Forrest had 
no sympathy with what a famous orthodox professor once 
called “ importing the Holy Ghost ; ” believing, as he often 
said, that if God were not always present, and ready to help 
and save men from sin, then there wasn’t any God. 

So he organized his work after a different fashion. He 
believed in a present, living, loving God, who, any day or 
hour, was ready to help any man, high or low, who was 
ready to help himself. He believed in repentance and con- 
version as the manly recognition of evil in the life, and a 
resolute turning-away from that evil. He believed in the 
church as the banding together of true men for mutual 
religious help, and the purification and uplifting of society ; 
and in this spirit he labored. He saw no reason why men 
should not pay special and prolonged attention to these 
high matters of character, as well as to the work of carrying 
a political campaign. 

Thus every evening, week after week, he spoke from his 
heart to a church full of attentive but rational and calm 
hearers. He labored to persuade men through their convic- 
tions ; naturally enough claiming, that, since men had brains, 
doubtless the Lord intended that they should use them con- 
cerning these grave affairs. Mr. Smiley was very much 
troubled at the class of men that came and listened ; and he 
was more troubled still, when they said that Mr. Forrest 
talked sense, and they were ready to be his kind of Chris- 
tians. Even old Uncle Zeke came in, and dropped down on 
a back seat, and listened with open mouth, as though a new 
prophet had come. 


THE MINISTER IN HIS WORK. 


99 


Mr. Smiley put his arai through the arm of Deacon 
Putney, as they left the door of the church to go home 
one evening, and said, — 

“ Deacon, what do you think of the way things are going 
on?” 

“Well,” said the deacon cautiously, for he was not sure 
yet what others thought, “ I have my times of hardly know- 
in’ ” — as though he ever had any other times : “ what do 
you think? ” 

“ I think this,” said he, with great and unctuous positive- 
ness : “ that, when the unregenerate like a minister of the 
gospel, there is something wrong. ‘ The natural heart is en- 
mity against God : ’ and, when the vital gospel is preached, 
the natural heart rebels. It don’t look well to see lawyers 
and doctors, and so many moral men, present and approving. 
If they were on their knees and in tears, it would be an- 
other thing. But they simply listen and approve, and say, 

‘ That is reasonable and right, and we ought to do it.’ That 
ain’t much like the preaching of Nettleton and Finney.” 

“ Waal,” broke in Uncle Zeke, who had come up behind 
on the sidewalk, and caught the last words, “ what would ye 
like? ter hev’em say they don't like it, and won't do it? 
Now, I call that preachin’ a nat’ral and sensible religion. 
I’d like ter be that kin’ o’ Christian myself.” 

“ Yes : that is the self-righteousness of a sinful heart,” said 
Mr. Smiley. “The real gospel isn’t natural, and men ought 
not to like it. Their stubborn wills should be broken, and 
they prostrated before the just wrath of an angry God.” 

“ I don’t go much fer breakin’ folks’s wills,” said Uncle 


lOO 


BLUFFTON. 


Zeke. “Break yer mainspring, and then ’spect yer watch 
ter make time.” 

But as Mr. Forrest was making an undoubted success of 
his sensible and natural gospel, and as there was a pros- 
pect of a large addition of paying members to the church, 
the scruples gave way for the time, and he was allowed to 
“build up Zion ” in his own way. For cavillers have some- 
times noted the apparent fact, that the meshes of the sieve 
through which candidates for admission to the church are 
sifted have a somewhat peculiar way of expanding, and let- 
ting large but wealthy and respectable sinners through, while 
they automatically contract at the approach of social insig- 
nificance or questionable poverty. 

At the other churches the usual drama was played. Mr. 
Forrest, one night at the close of his own service, stepped in 

at the church, to see the explanation of the strange 

•hullabaloo that he heard. He knew they were sometimes 
noisy; but he thought something really unusual must this 
time have occurred. As he entered, a scene broke on him 
to which only the combined pencils of Dord and Hogarth 
could have done justice. 

The minister stood inside the “ altar.” He had preached 
a sermon of great “unction,” and ^vrought the people up to a 
pitch of intense excitement. His text had been, “ How can 
ye escape the damnation of hell?” He had now come out 
of and before the pulpit, and was leading the “ conference- 
meeting,” and trying to gather in the fruits of his sermon. 
He stood with a glowing and exultant face, rubbing and 
occasionally clapping his hands, and now and again — when 


THE MINISTER IN HIS WORK. lOI 

there was any appearance of lulling into quiet — shout- 
ing, “ Glory ! ” “ Hallelujah ! ” “ That’s good, brethren ! ” 
“ Praise the Lord ! ” and other such phrases, to whip on the 
rushing excitement. He had just called on brother Baker to 
pray. The said brother happened to be in the back part of 
the house, and near to Mr. Forrest, who was by the door. 
The hubbub did not stop, nor did the minister even sit down 
or kneel. He seemed to be overlooking the field of action, 
like a general from a rising ground watching the progress of 
a battle. The irreverence of the whole thing to Mr. Forrest 
was such as to fill him with a shocking sense of disgust. 
Meantime brother Baker dropped on his knees, and began 
in so low a tone, that, in the general confusion, he could not 
be heard two pews away. Mr. Forrest caught his opening 
sentences, — 

‘‘ O Lord ! we would not persume ter dictate, but we 
would humbly segest the perpriety of havin’ a small bit of a 
revival in this place.” 

His voice went on rising and swaying until he fairly 
shrieked and screamed in his vehemence, — 

“ It is time for thee, O Lord, to work ! ” 

And now his yell — for it was nothing less — shrilled out 
above all the tumult ; and though two or three volunteers in 
other parts of the house had also begun praying at the same 
time, on their own account, he could still be heard above 
them all. He now gasped for breath : his hands clutched 
the seat, and the perspiration rolled from his forehead. 
Each separate word was a gasp ; and between them were 
interjected syllables, on which he seemed to rest for an 
instant while catching his breath for a still higher scream. 


102 


BLUFFTON. 


“ O God-er, poor-er sinners-er droppin’ into hell-er ! 
Shake-er ’em, Lord-er, and wake ’em up-er, to see-er the 
gulf-er under their feet-er ! ” 

And, when no more breath was left, with one wild shi^ek 
he gasped out “ Amen ! ” and rolled over on the floor. 
And around swelled the chorus, “Amen ! ” “Glory to God ! ” 
“ Glory, glory, glory ! ” 

Then one of the brethren who recognized Mr. Forrest, and 
wanted him to understand the spiritual artillery with which 
his church was armed, touched him on the shoulder, and, 
pointing to brother Baker’s unconscious form, said, — 

“ Oh, but he’s a mighty man at the throne of grace ! — a 
powerful wrastler with the Lord ! ” 

“ Yes,” said another, “ he jest storms the kingdom, and 
brings the marcy down.” 

“ And,” remarked a third, “ he’s a wonderful pious man. 
The trances and visions the Lord hez granted him is r<?- 
markable. He always goes off arter prayer.” 

Mr. Forrest inwardly thought that most people did “ go 
off ” when they’d used up their limited supply of breath, but 
he was too polite to say it. 

But now their attention was turned another way. By this 
time several hysterical women were crawling about the aisles 
on their hands and knees ; and several more were laid away 
on the seats, having shouted till they too had “ gone off,” — 
out of their senses in reality, but that here was supposed to 
mean into heaven. One enthusiastic brother now grasped 
with both hands what he typically called the “ horns of the 
altar,” but which, in reality, was the railing around the pul- 


THE MINISTER IN HIS WORK. 


103 


pit ; and, as he pulled and exhorted, a section of the “ altar ” 
gave way. He now seized one of the round, upright pieces, 
— about the length and size of an ordinary cane, — and 
while he shouted, — 

“ Flee, sinners ! flee for your lives into the ark ! The 
storm is cornin’ : hasten while yet the door stands open ! ” — 
he rushed wildly back and forth, punching in the ribs with 
his stick the brothers and sisters that seemed indisposed 
to hasten. 

Mr. Forrest had now got all of this kind of religion he 
could bear. As he went out, he heard a drunken teamster, 
who had run his wheel against a lamp-post, swearing at his 
horse. 

“ Well,” said he to himself, “ I don’t know which is worse, 
the religious profanity inside, or the irreligious out. What 
strange ideas they must have about God, and the way to 
please him ! ” 


104 


BLUFFTON. 


XI. 

UNDERGROUND RUMBLINGS. 

M rs. grey was a sore puzzle to the good church 
people of Bluffton. She was a widow of about forty- 
five years of age, well-preserved, and with a face singularly 
sweet and refined. Her hair, silvered as much with sorrow 
as with age, formed a saintly aureole about a face that pure 
thoughts, noble aspirations, and kindly deeds had sculptured 
into a more than fleshly beauty. She had come to Bluffton 
a few years before, hoping that a Western air would, if not 
restore to health, at least prolong the life of, a husband 
whose vitality was gradually burning away in the slow fire of 
consumption. She had watched and cared for him tenderly 
to the last. But when he had faded out of sight, instead 
of shutting herself up, and brooding over her own grief in 
the insidious selfishness of sorrow, she had said to Mr. For- 
rest, as he called upon her after the funeral, — 

“ I mustn’t permit myself to brood here alone. I can’t 
endure to sit still and only think of the past : it will distract 
me. Tell me what I can do. I can do no more for him. 
I can help the living, if I can’t the dead.” 

And so she became a ministering angel. Having been 


UNDERGROUND RUMBLINGS. 


105 


made perfect through suffering,” she carried with her the 
power of a genuine sympathy, that all the sick and poor 
could feel as a babe feels its mother’s care, though they 
could not tell the tear-watered root from which it sprung. 
No one could help loving her. She was first in all the city 
work of benevolence ; and her shadow, like Peter’s in the 
Acts, was a shadow of healing wherever it fell. 

Still, in spite of all this, — nay, because of all this, — she 
sorely troubled the church. Logically she ought to have 
been the worst woman in town. For — as was whispered 
about, and as was really true — she was an infidel ; that is, 
she utterly rejected their church creeds and ways. It is well 
to note that the word “ infidel ” is one whose definition shifts 
according to geographical, social, and theological latitudes. 
Christians are all infidels to the Turks. Socrates was an infi- 
del and an atheist in Athens. Galileo and Newton were infi- 
dels ; and Darwin is still. So Mrs. Grey, though faithful to 
all known essential laws of God and man, was yet an “ infi- 
del ” in Bluffton. Let us see some of her “ strange peculiari- 
ties.” 

She would not go to church regularly, for the sake of 
going, and as a religious duty. She said, — 

“ I go to church to be fed. If there is nothing on the 
table, it seems to me a waste of time to sit down to it. I’ll 
go to my own cupboard for crumbs.” 

And so she would search her small library for what she 
thought profitable as Sunday reading. She was not ecclesi- 
astically strict on Sunday. She would even sew, if she 
found some poor family was suffering for work done. This 


io6 


BLUFFTON. 


Strange conduct she justified by references to the ass in the 
pit in the Gospels, and the beasts led away to watering. She 
also said there was no command in the Bible, and no ground 
in history, for keeping any such idle Sunday as they claimed 
she ought. And, because they could not contradict her, 
they were all the more angry, and louder in their abuse. 
She did not believe in prayer either, as popularly under- 
stood. She said she did not believe in teasing God ; and 
she thought it an imputation on his goodness to suppose he 
needed urging, and an insult to his intelligence to suppose 
he needed information. Prayer with her was only heart- 
communion, and was just as good when silent. 

No wonder they called her names. It was the instinct of 
self-defence. For indeed the churches, as organized in 
Blufiton, had no excuse for existence if her ideas were 
true. 

This, then, was the character that was gone over ” in the 
gossip of the sewing-circle. 

“ Well, now, I think it’s jest a shame. Mis Howett,” broke 
out old Mrs. Buck, “ fer you to let your Looizer go ’round 
with Mis Grey so much.” 

“ Pray tell me why,” said Mrs. Howitt. Mrs. Howitt was 
a quiet, firm, ladylike woman, who, while evangelical, 
believed that a tree might safely be judged by its fruits; 
and she preferred a good apple grown on a heterodox tree 
to a rotten one whose trunk was orthodox. 

“ Why? ” said Aunt Sally Rawson, “ ’pears as ef it needn’t 
take long to know why. Don’t the whole town know she’s 
’n infidel ? ” 


UNDERGROUND RUMBLINGS. 


107 


“ Yis ; an’ I think she’s just splendid ! ” broke in the ir- 
repressible Jane Ann Rawson. 

“Jane Ann, speak when you’re spoken to,” said her 
mother. “Her insinuatin’ ways is even leadin’ my darter 
astray from the teachin’s I give her in her childhood. That’s 
what comes of sich examples as you set. Mis Howitt. Jane 
Ann sees Looizer with her, an’ she follers on.” 

“But,” said Mrs. Howitt, “what do you mean by her 
being an infidel ? ” 

“Why,” exclaimed Mrs. Buck, “she don’t read the Bible ; 
an’ my old man said he saw a book onct on her table, that 
he thought looked like Tom Paine, — though I wouldn’t 
hev you think he ever saw Tom Paine.” 

“ An’ that ain’t all,” said Aunt Sally : “ she don’t go to 
church ; an’ she scoffs at prayer-meetings.” 

“Well, I don’t care ’f she doos,” burst out Jane Ann 
again : “ I think prayer-meetin’s is just horrid ! ” 

“ Why, Jane Ann Rawson ! I should think you’d be afeard 
the lightnin’ ’d strike you. Don’t you ever let me hear you 
speak like that agin.” 

“But,” said Mrs. Howitt, “while I am sorry Mrs. Grey 
doesn’t look at some things as we do, we must all confess 
that her life is a rebuke to the Christianity of all of us.” 

“ Well, that won’t never do,” said Mrs. Buck : “ I think it’s 
all the worse. ’Twould be better for the community ’f she 
was a bad woman. When Satan comes as a angel o’ light 
then look out for ’im, I say.” 

“Anyhow,” said Jane Ann, “there’s some folks in town 
that talks ’bout the ‘ higher life,’ claims to be ‘ sanctified,’ 


io8 


BLUFFTON. 


and says they hain’t sinned fer a year, that would be might- 
ily improved to git a little o’ her goodness.” 

“Jane Ann, who you squintin’ at now?” inquired Mrs. 
Buck, with a severe tone of voice ; for she herself was among 
those who had “ attained perfection.” 

“ You needn’t jump till yer hit,” said Jane Ann, not over- 
respectfully. “ I don’t mean you. I do mean the Hinmans, 
though.” 

“Why, what o’ them, I sh’d like to know? Mis Hinman’s 
a saint. She don’t do nothin’ from mornin’ to night ’cept 
go to meetin’, an’ pray.” 

“Yis, she do, though,” said Jane Ann. 

“Wliat?” 

“ Why, nothin’, only spin street-yam, and let th’ old man 
swear coz she hain’t got dinner ready; and Jim and Jake go 
cussin’ round, out o’ school, and their trousers all rags.” 

“ And Mrs. Hinman’s brother, another ‘ sanctified ’ one,” 
said Mrs. Howitt, “and who says he hasn’t had a sinful 
thought for six months, — he rents his stores for grog-shops, 
and has an agent run a house of bad repute for him. Now, 
ladies, if this is religion, I am seriously thinking of turning 
Mrs. Grey’s kind of infidel.” 

“ Well, ’f I ever did hear sich talk ! and from a church- 
member too ! No wonder your Looizer hain’t got religion. 
Might know the Lord ’d pass by a house where sich senti- 
ments is believed in,” said Mrs. Buck. 

“ When the Lord does come to my house, as you say, 
Mrs. Buck,” remarked Mrs. Howitt, “ I hope he’ll not make 
my Louisa such a Christian as the Hinmans are.” 


UNDERGROUND RUMBLINGS. IO9 

“Mr. Forrest thinks Mis Grey’s as good’s a Christian, 
anyway,” said Jane Ann. 

“ Yis, I’ve no doubt he doos,” tartly replied Mrs. Buck, 
“and not much to his credit, neither. He’s too much taken 
with Mis Grey’s infidel notions, ’cordin’ to my thinkin’.” 

“That’s where ye.’re right, Mis Buck,” said aunt Sally. 
“ On’y last sabbath he had a hit agin people’s goin to meet- 
in’ reg’lar ; said some folks ’t went to meetin’ so much ’d 
better stay to home, and look after their fam’lies, do their 
duties, and pay their debts.” 

“Now, I call that infidel,” said Mrs. Buck. “YTien a 
minister of the gospel gits to preachin’ morality, then, I say, 
it looks like Unitarianism. I said to my old man on’y last 
Monday, sez I, ‘John,’ sez I, ‘ all this morality’s well enough ; 
but when I go to church, I go t’ enjoy religion, an’ I don’t 
want no cold hashin’ up er duties and sich stuff.’ ” 

“But are there no duties and morality in religion?” in- 
quired Mrs. Howitt. “For my part, I only wish Mr. Forrest 
could make all the church live as well as Mrs. Grey does.” 

Just at this point the door of the church-vestry opened, 
and in walked Mrs. Grey and Mr. Forrest. They had not 
come together, but had met at the street-comer. They 
looked about for a moment, and saw the usual scene. Here 
one or two ladies were standing at tables, cutting out gar- 
ments ; and, scattered in groups here and there, many others 
were sevWng and chatting. Tongue and needle generally 
went together ; but over at one side they noticed that the 
needles had stopped, and the tongues ran on alone. This 
was the place where was seated the little knot whose rather 
interesting conversation we have been overhearing. 


no 


BLUFFTON. 


The new-comers, recognizing Mrs. Howitt, stepped over to 
speak with her. All the rest also jumped to their feet with 
the most profuse demonstrations of pleasure. 

“ Why, Mr. Forrest, so glad to see you ! ” said Mrs. Buck. 

“ Yis ; speak of angels, and they alius shows theirselves,” 
exclaimed aunt Sally Rawson. “We’s jest sayin’ how the 
Lord was prosperin’ his work, and buildin’ up the walls of 
Zion. That sermon o’ your’n last sabbath was jest bread 
from heaven.” 

“ And, Mis Grey, how do you do ? It’s a long time sence 
we had the privilege o’ seein’ you ’t our circle,” said Mrs. 
Buck, as though she really meant it. 

“We was jest a-sayin’. Mis Grey,” remarked aunt Sally, 
“how much the young gals o’ the s’iety thinks o’ you.” She 
framed the sentence ingeniously, so as not formally to lie, 
while getting the advantage of the reality, — a popular de- 
vice by which many suppose they keep on the side of truth. 
Neither Mr. Forrest nor Mrs. Grey said any thing worth 
our recording. They talked pleasantly and politely for a 
few moments, and then passed on to greet other acquaint- 
ances. As soon as they were out of hearing, Jane Ann ex- 
ploded. 

“ If lyin’s a proof of people’s bein’ ‘ perfected ’ and ‘ sanc- 
tified,’ then I know lots o’ folks that’s in danger o’ bein’ 
translated ’fore they knows it,” said she, in a tone of biting 
sarcasm. 

Mrs. Buck’s hands went up in horror. 

“ Sich impidence and sich impiety I never did hear,” she 
exclaimed. “ This is what comes o’ Mis Grey’s influence, 
an’ Mr. Forrest’s lettin’ down the tone o’ his preachin’.” 


UNDERGROUND RUMBLINGS. 


Ill 


“Jane Ann, you put on yer things, and go right straight 
home. I’ll have a season o’ prayer with you ’fore you go to 
bed. I wonder the Lord don’t smite ye for sech talk,” said 
her mother. 

“ ’F the Lord should go to smitin’, some other folks might 
git hit,” muttered Jane Ann under her breath, as she de- 
parted. 

Mrs. Howitt now left them ; and they had an edifying talk 
on the condition of parish affairs, garnished with sundry 
choice bits of- scandal that seemed equally as dear to them 
as did the state of religion. 

When they had gone the rounds, Mrs. Grey said to Mr. 
Forrest, — 

“Are you engaged this afternoon?” 

“ Not so but that I am at your disposal,” said he. 

“ If, then, you have no objection, I’d like a little talk with 
you.” 

“Will you go to my study? ” 

“ No, if you please. You come up to my house. It will 
do you good to get out of your parish atmosphere for a 
little.” 


II2 


BLUFFTON. 


XII 


MR. FORREST AND MRS. GREY. 

RS. GREY’S small, neat house was on a slope of the 



IVJ. hill overlooking the town. From the little bay- 
window where Mr. Forrest sat in a cosey rocking-chair, he 
could see the river on one side, the uneven but beautiful 
and tree-crowned ranges of hills back of the city, while the 
city itself made a picture in the foreground. 

“ There,” said Mrs. Grey, pulling the curtains clear up so 
as to give an unobstructed view in all directions, “ we are 
here raised, at least in space, above the petty superstitions, 
the unreasoning traditions and narrow views, of the thought- 
less mass that makes up the town below us.” 

“ If elevation in space,” said he, “ was only intellectual 
elevation, I would certainly try to get them all to build on 
the hills.” 

“ But,” said she, “ you’ll forgive me for speaking plainly ; 
you know me well enough now to understand me : do you 
think you are doing all you might to help them?” 

“ I mean to. Where do I fail? ” 

“ Will you pardon me if I tell you ? ” 

“ Certainly. Why not ? ” 


MR. FORREST AND MRS. GREY. II3 

“ Well, I believe you will. If I didn’t believe in you, I 
shouldn’t talk at all. And you know I look upon you as a 
sort of boy of mine. And I don’t think you ought to be 
where you are.” 

. “ But you said you’d tell me where I failed.” 

“ I think,” said she slowly, and looking him full in the 
face, “ that you are not quite frank enough.” 

“You don’t think I deceive my people?” 

“ Not consciously or purposely, by any manner of means ; 
but, really, yes.” 

“ Pray tell me wherein.” 

“Well, the atmosphere you breathe is not a natural, 
healthy one.” 

“ Explain.” 

“ Why, you are not orthodox. I feel it every time I hear 
you preach. That in you which touches and moves men is 
your heresy. Of course I rejoice in it; and I hope 
much for you when you once get where you belong. But 
you ought to be orthodox, or you ought not to hold your 
position. Every time you rise and stand in your pulpit, 
your people think that means that you believe things that I 
know you are too intelligent to hold.” 

“Perhaps I’m not so intelligent as you suppose. So I 
may believe more than you think I do.” 

“ May I catechise you a little ? ” 

“ Nothing would suit me better. I like to talk these 
things over ; and you know me well enough to know that 
I haven’t any beliefs I prize so much as I do the simple 
truth.” 


BLUFFTON. 


1 14 

“ I believe it, and therein is my hope for you. If it were 
not so, you would not have dared to have preached what 
you already have.” 

“ Do you think I’ve really gone far out of the way of 
‘ sound doctrine ’ ? I haven’t thought of being brave, for I 
have only spoken what seemed to me simple reason and 
truth.” 

“That’s your offence. They don’t want you to preach 
reason. I’m aware that the majority of the church like you, 
for they do not think deeply on theological points. But the 
leaders don’t; and, as sure as the world, there’s trouble 
brewing. Your being my friend is a crime. That you 
study and read science, is against you. Things are not 
going as they are now for a great while.” 

“ Well, let it come if it must. But the catechism? ” 

“All right, then. Last Sunday you closed your prayer 
with the words, ‘ For Clirist’s sake.’ Why? ” 

Mr. Forrest thought a moment, and then answered frank- 
ly, “ Training and habit, perhaps ; for I am aware the phrase 
has no New-Testament authority.” 

“ And did you never think the implication is almost im- 
piety ? It is a figure borrowed from the habits of Oriental 
courts and despots. When the sultan will not grant a favor 
for the suppliant’s need’s sake, or because it is beneficent or 
right, still he sometimes will for the sake of a court favorite. 
Do you think God is that kind of a being? ” 

“ I fear I never thought of its implication before.” 

“ Well, do you think Christ has any thing to do with our 
prayers, any way? ” 


MR. FORREST AND MRS. GREY. II5 

“ Only this : I do think he is the manifestation of that 
character and disposition, on the part of God, that invites our 
prayers.” 

“ You do not, then, hold that Christ’s death as a sacrifice 
has any thing to do with God’s ability or willingness to hear 
prayer, and forgive sin?” 

“ Indeed I do not. That was only an expression of an 
eternal willingness. I could not love a being whose nature 
it was not to save.” 

“ You are aware, I suppose, that these views are not quite 
consistent with the old ideas of the Trinity? ” 

“ Yes ; and for that, I confess I don’t much care. I’m 
not the only orthodox minister who doesn’t believe the Trin- 
ity.” 

“ How do you hold things, then ? ” 

“ Well, something like this. The doctrine of the Trinity 
is utterly meaningless. I can’t even understand its terms.” 

“ Perhaps I’m not theologian enough to understand what 
those terms are.” 

“ These, then : I am expected to believe that God is three 
persons, and am told in the same breath that the word ‘ per- 
son ’ doesn’t mean person, but something else. I ask what 
else, and nobody knows. Then these three persons are only 
one person. I have asked a great many laymen to tell me 
what the Trinity is, and I have never found one who could 
do it. They always give me Unitarianism in some form, or 
Tritheism. And I don’t wonder.” 

“ What, then, do you believe ? ” said she. 

“ I believe in the universal and omnipresent God, who is 


ii6 


BLUFFTON. 


a spirit. That’s the first person. Christ, to me, is only a 
manifestation of this unseen spirit in the sphere of humanity. 
The Father, as a separate personality, nothing.” 

“ You say you are not the only orthodox minister who 
holds such views? ” 

“ I have a good deal of company. It isn’t much wonder 
if many people are a little mixed over what nobody can un- 
derstand.” 

“ But how can you claim to be orthodox? ” 

“Why,” said he, “I follow Jesus. He never claimed to 
be God.” 

“ How about ‘ I and my Father are one ’ ? ” 

“ But right in immediate connection he prays that the dis- 
ciples may be one with him as he is one with the Father. If 
one verse makes him God, the other makes all the disciples 
God as well. It proves too much.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say it. But what of the first 
chapter of John? Do yoif think that teaches it? ” 

“ I used to, but I know better now. Even if it did, it 
would only prove that the unknown author of John believed 
it, not that it is true. It is only the opinion of the writer, 
at best. But it doesn’t mean that.” 

“ What does it mean? ” 

“ It means,” said he, “ a mystical, metaphysical notion of 
the Gnostics. They held to all sorts of gods and semi-gods, 
aeons and emanations, to bridge over the gulf between God 
and matter. The New Testament’s later documents are full 
of the technical terms of Gnosticism, showing how much 
that philosophy influenced the writers.” 


MR. FORREST AND MRS, GREY. 11/ 

“ But they say that Christ is spoken of as the creator of 
the world, and that only God can create.” 

“ The Gnostic belief of the writer was the precise opposite. 
This sect held that the supreme God was too high and pure 
to come into contact with matter, and so did not and 
could not create the world. They taught that the world was 
created by a being they called the Demi-urgus, and whom 
they identified with Christ. To call Christ creator, then, was 
the most forcible way of saying he was not God.” 

“ The genealogical tables of the Gospels have always sur- 
prised me, Mr. Forrest.” 

“ Well they might. They do not agree with each other, 
nor with the Old-Testament tables ; and, since they trace 
Jesus back to Joseph, of course have nothing whatever to do 
with him unless Joseph was his father.” 

“ How do you account, then, for them as they stand ? ” 

“ Oh ! they are part of an older tradition, that had changed 
its form by the time the Gospels came into their present 
shape. The old tradition was, that Joseph was his father, 
and the Holy Ghost his mother.” 

“ How strange ! ” 

“No, not strange. It was common enough in ancient 
times for men to believe in superhuman births, where either 
father or mother was divine.” 

“But isn’t it remarkable that we know no more of the 
childhood of Jesus? ” 

“ I think not : we know but very little about him anjuvay. 
We do not know when he was born, nor when he died. The 
Gospels disagree as to the length of his ministry, one making 


ii8 


BLUFFTON. 


it three years, the rest one ; and John seems to imply that 
he lived till he was on toward the age of fifty. But, if we 
had known all about his childhood, we should never have 
had the dogma of the incarnation. There must be mystery 
and uncertainty to give room for the imagination to create 
myths.” 

“ It seems so strange that men can believe that God was 
ever bom as a man ! ” 

“ Yes, just think of it ! — God born a baby, puling, whin- 
ing, crying in the arms of a nurse ; God going to school, and 
getting his lessons ; God sitting at the feet of quibbling, hair- 
splitting rabbins in the synagogue, and learning his own law. 
It seems blasphemy to me sometimes. It was easy enough 
to think such childish thoughts when men thought the uni- 
verse was only a little three-story house, with hell for cellar, 
and heaven for upper story. God could then come down 
stairs, and see what was going on, disguising himself in a 
human body. But, in our present knowledge of the universe, 
it is most stupendous absurdity to think such things.” 

“ But these ideas are not altogether ancient, are they? ” 

“ No : in certain grades of civilization it seems easy to be- 
lieve such things. Within fifty years some of the tribes of 
India have deified, and are now worshipping, an English 
officer.” 

“ But you just referred to hell as the ‘ cellar ’ of the old 
universe. I have noticed you do not preach it ; and this, I 
understand, is one ground of parish complaint.” 

“ This is a horrible subject to me, Mrs. Grey. Oh, what a 
childhood it gave me ! However beautiful the day or the 


MR, FORREST AND MRS. GREY. 1 19 

landscape, or however joyous the plays, this haunting horror 
used to come to blot out the light, and make me tremble. A 
blue sky, fields full of flowers, and — hell ! what a mixture for 
childhood ! And if ever, during boyhood, there was a fire, a 
house burnt, you cannot imagine what I suffered. I feared 
I was not one of the ‘ elect ; ’ and I saw myself livid and 
red-hot, and writhing in the flames. And it was — forever ! 
Oh, how I used to rush home, and bury my face in the bed- 
clothes, to try to shut out the inner vision, and then at night 
cry and shiver myself to sleep ! ” 

“ When did you cease believing it ? ” 

“I hardly know as I have ceased believing it yet, in 
some form. My views have changed greatly with more 
study and thought, since I came to Bluffton. The first thing 
that fairly started my thinking on the subject was a tract I 
once came across. I was trained as a child to think Univer- 
salism synonymous with every thing evil. And, indeed, the 
old form of Universalism now seems to me the height of 
absurdity. I can’t believe that any magic at death can make 
all souls, so unlike five minutes before, equally fit for heaven 
five minutes after.” 

“ But what of this tract ? ” 

“ I got hold of it somehow, and read it in my study in 
California. What an agony of mind I went through ! I 
wanted so to believe it ! One moment I would ; and then 
my heart burst out singing ; and all the world seemed to 
break forth in glad rejoicing that hell was no more. And 
then I dared not believe it. It was Satan tempting me. I 
was being led astray. I was falling over into an abyss. The 
mental struggle was awful. 


120 


BLUFFTON. 


“ But though I did not accept the teaching then, for fear 
I was going astray, it had started thoughts that would not 
rest, I felt impelled to re-examine the grounds of the 
belief.” 

“ Well, what have you found? For, though the teachings 
of all the Bibles in the world couldn’t make me believe it, 
yet I like to know how it lies in other thoughtful minds.” 

“ In the first place, I have gone over the Bible as bearing 
on the subject; and I am surprised to find how large a 
part of the common belief is based on ignorance, mistransla- 
tion, and change in the meaning of words. For instance, 
there isn’t a trace of everlasting punishment in the Old Tes- 
tament, Indeed, the Jews had no fixed or clear belief in a 
future life at all. . It was a late growth, and largely received 
from the Persians at the time of the captivity. So there is 
not one single place in the Old Testament where ‘ hell ’ 
means hell as the word is used to-day. It is false to honesty 
and the Bible itself, to let the word stand there. And then, 
leaving out repetitions of the same sayings in the different 
Gospels, there are no more than six places in the New Tes- 
tament where the word ‘ hell ’ ought to be in the text, even if 
it ought to be there at all. As to these six, it is simply 
begging the question to say that the original ‘ Gehenna ’ 
means what we mean by hell.” 

“ But, though I do not believe it any the more for that, 
it seems to me the Bible teaches it. It says everlasting 
punishment, and everlasting life, putting the two on the 
same level.” 

“Begging your pardon, no. The word, aionios, is used 


MR. FORREST AND MRS. GREY. 


I2I 


many times where it doesn’t and can’t mean everlasting. 
The true translation is eternal; but the word does not deter- 
mine the duration, referring sometimes rather to quality and 
kind than quantity, and in any case leaving the term in- 
definite.” 

“ But you say you still believe it.” 

“Not everlasting: I cannot. I believe in future punish- 
ment. For the same laws of right and wrong, of reward and 
penalty, are everywhere. Results, good or bad, inevitably 
attach themselves to our deeds, and must do so always and 
everywhere.” 

^ “ Do you believe man is too good to be punished for- 
ever?” 

“ I’d rather say, I believe he is nox oaa enougn to be pun- 
ished forever. It seems monstrous injustice. No man, in a 
long life, could commit crimes enough to deserve it.” 

“ But you know it is often said, that the man will keep on 
sinning, and so will keep on suffering.” 

“ Not if God is king, and can have his own way. The 
worst of the whole doctrine is its blasphemy toward God. 
He either can, or can’t, sotne time save all. If he can’t, he 
isn’t God ; for his power is limited. If he can, and will not, 
then he’s no God, but a devil.” 

“ But, they say, he is limited by man’s free-will, and must 
let him take his own course.” 

“ I know that is urged ; but it is a quibble. We talk 
much of human obligation : isn’t there any divine obliga- 
tion ? I say it reverently ; but God has no right to create 
a cause that he cannot control, and that he knows will result 


122 


BLUFFTON. 


in evil. To do so would make the evil his own. It is so 
simple a principle of justice, that all human laws recognize 
it concerning human actions. The creation of the world, if 
its outcome is to be irremediable evil to a single human soul, 
is a gigantic crime. For even God has no right to do other 
than right. And what would be a crime on earth can’t be 
goodness in heaven.” 

“ With such beliefs as these, how can you remain in an 
orthodox church? ” 

“ I wake up and find these things forcing themselves on 
me in the orthodox church, and I do not as yet see my way.” 

“ Go into another church.” 

“Where? I am not a Universalist. I am not a Uni- 
tarian. Both hold beliefs I cannot accept. Neither of their 
systems will be the church of the future. There is nowhere 
to go. I have plenty of company. Other ministers are in the 
same position. And yet I stay so far, more because I know 
not how to leave, than because I think I ought to stay.” 

“But you do not preach what you do not believe? I 
can’t think that of you.” 

“ Never. I simply keep still concerning my doubts. I 
preach positively what I do believe, — the great principles 
of righteousness, the central ideas of a Christian life.” 

“ Well, Mr. Forrest, I think I feel the difficulties of your 
position. And I fear your enemies, that smile upon you, 
will help you settle the question.” 

“ I am ready to face whatever comes.” 

But, as he walked toward his study, he said to himself, — 

“Can I face all?'' 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 


123 


XIII. 

A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 

F rom the sitting-room of Mrs. Grey, Mr. Forrest went 
alone to his study. 

The great battles of the world are fought alone. Before 
men appear in the great crises of the world, to head for- 
lorn-hopes, guide nations, or lead others to victory, they 
have first met, fought, and conquered themselves, on the 
unseen battle-fields of the soul. There is no shouting, no 
noise of cannon, no waving of flags above the smoke ; but 
only a cry of prayer, or a sigh of agony breathed out, that, 
like the puff of steam from a volcano, tells of the infernal 
strife below. It is the Armageddon battle-field, where the 
hosts of good and evil clutch in deadly encounter. He 
who has won here is safe. No other is fit to trust as 
leader when grand human destinies are hanging in the 
balance. Here Moses, and Sakya-muni, and Jesus, and 
Mohammed, and Luther, and Wesley, and Channing, and 
Parker fought, and raised their monuments of triumph. 
Here all true souls are tested. This battle is the soul’s 
crisis or judgment-seat, in the true New-Testament sense. 


124 


BLUFFTON. 


It is the man’s ordeal, through which he passes while 
above him “the throne is set, and the books are opened.” 

Here, then, is Mr. Forrest come at last. He had caught 
glimpses of the gathering hosts before. He had already 
been in the edge of the fray more than once, but had with- 
drawn again, and postponed the decision. But now he 
neither could nor cared to escape. His conscience sounded 
the bugle, and he prepared himself for the issue. He felt 
he was fighting for the prize of his own soul. His manhood 
was to be lost or won. The combatants are to be found in 
every live and earnest human heart. Progress fought re- 
action ; freedom struggled with tradition, and bondage to the 
letter of other men’s thoughts ; honesty was matched against 
a compromising conformity; the faith of Abraham, that 
“went out, not knowing whither,” — only knowing that God 
had called, — was met by the timidity that doubted whether 
God ever led into new lands ; worldly favor sought to seduce 
the loyalty that prompted to choose duty at the cost of any 
loss ; a passionate love sought to make duty conform to its 
own sweet interests; while reverence for the past tried to * 
make his independent search seem a traitor to the ancient 
wisdom that claims with authority to represent God. 

Well may you offer him your sympathy ; for it was a Geth- 
semane struggle. He would almost rather have died than 
enter the battle. And though he should struggle, and come 
off victor, still he felt that it must be at such a cost as might 
leave him stripped of all he cared to live for. So it was the 
bitterness of death on either hand. 

He sat down at his desk, rested his elbows on its top, and 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 1 25 

his temples on the palms of both his hands, and listened to 
the cries that came up from the deeps of his soul. 

“ O God ! ” he cried, — “ if there be a God, — why must 
one so doubt and suffer in trying to find thee, and the way 
of thy truth?” 

And then he sat, and thought over the pathway of human 
progress, and noted how it was tear-sprinkled and blood- 
marked all the way. 

“ It has been one long martyrdom,” he said. “ From the 
dwellers in caves, clear on, it has been one long agony and 
martyrdom. Only they who have been willing to be useless, 
to live lives of mere animal content, have been comfortable. 
The thinkers, the inventors, the prophets, they who have 
tried to give something to mankind, have been like Prome- 
theus, — have paid for it by endless vulture-gnawings at their 
vitals.” 

Here he sprang to his feet, and walked the room. And 
out of his terrible doubt he exclaimed, — 

“Can it be, after all, that the eternal God is only a Jove- 
like tyrant, jealous of man’s welfare, and so torturing those 
who would be his benefactors, leading to higher thoughts 
and better ways? If not, why are the prophets cast out? 
why do they have to pay, in tears and torture, for the help 
they would render their fellow-men ? ” 

“ But this,” he continued aloud, “ is blasphemy. ‘ Shall 
not the Judge of all the earth do right? ’ There could be no 
sense of right at all, were God not righteous. That the uni- 
verse is orderly at all, proves that order rules. That there is 
any moral order, proves right supreme. And yet the price 
of it ! Could not the pain be spared ? ” 


126 


BLUFFTON. 


Then he caught up his New Testament, and read how 
Jesus, “though he were a son, yet became perfect through 
the things that he suffered.” But, as he mused, he said, — 

“ But this does not make it seem right. It only shows 
that the greatest souls are subject to the inevitable law.” 

And then he turned to “ In Memoriam, ” and read, — 

“ I falter where I firmly trod, 

And, falling with my weight of cares, 

U pon the world’s great altar-stairs 
That slope through darkness up to God, — 

I stretch lone hands of faith, and grope. 

And gather dust and chaff, and call 
To what I feel is Lord of all. 

And faintly trust the larger hope.” 

“ After all,” he said, “ whatever is dark, there is no doubt, 
that, if I am to be a man, I must hear and obey my con- 
science, and not falter when duty calls. They who die for 
right are victors, though they go down into the dust and 
endless night ; and they who live, and pay their manhood 
for the privilege, are buried forever beneath the debris of 
their own souls.” 

This point of the battle, then, he had won. He would be 
true to himself at any cost. 

“But I’m not true to myself,” he exclaimed, “so long as 
I occupy this equivocal position. I must leave Bluffton. I 
go and stand in my pulpit, and feel that I am acting a lie. I 
am understood to be orthodox : my standing there proclaims 
the fact. I can’t endure it ! I shall get so that my soul 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 


127 


will consent to be false ; and then what shall I be worth to 
anybody ? Since all things are so uncertain, I almost wish 
I had never thought and studied. But I have thought and 
studied, and the fate is on me.” 

And then came the tempting suggestion, — 

“But the most of your people like the doctrine you 
preach; and you can mould them to your will. The few 
who oppose, you can drive away, and have the field to your- 
self.” 

It was a sweet thought for a moment, and he almost 
yielded. Then he trembled to think what traitor forces were 
in him ; .and an imagination a little more vivid would have 
made him fling his inkstand, like Luther, at the haunting 
devil of deceit. 

“ Yes, of course I might do it, if I could play an under- 
hand game like that. I know they like my doctrine ; but 
they would not if they knew its name. When I lead 
churches into new truth, I will do it with open colors, and 
not in uniforms that are stolen.” 

While he had walked his study, and thought, and read, 
and struggled, the twilight had come on. The tea-bell 
rang, but he sent down word that he would not eat to-night. 
Then he went to his window, and looked out to the east, and 
saw that the moon was rising. It threw a bridge of silver 
beams across the river, as fair as the streets that the angels 
tread. And then his eyes wandered over to Madge’s win- 
dow; and his heart beat wildly at the thought of her 
womanly beauty and his great love. 

“ O Madge ! ” he cried, “ you little know the bitterness 


128 


BLUFFTON. 


that comes to my heart as I think of your sweet love. But 
I can endure this here no longer. I must get out into the 
night.” 

He caught his hat, and started for the hills. He walked 
for an hour with no other purpose than to do the impossi- 
ble, — get away from himself. At last the attraction of the 
spot and the memory of that night brought him to the place 
where Madge’s silence had confessed her love. He sat 
down, and looked about him. The picture of ragged bluffs, 
and wide river, and starry sky, brought to his thought those 
lines of Byron : — 

“ Tis midnight : on the mountains brown 
The cold, round moon shines deeply down. 

Blue roll the waters ; blue the sky 
Seems, like an ocean hung on high. 

Bespangled with those isles of light 
So wildly, spiritually bright. 

Who ever looked upon them shining. 

And turned to earth without repining, 

Nor wished for wings to flee away 
And mix with their eternal ray?” 


“They look peaceful,” thought he ; “and ever since man 
suffered they have tormented him with the spectacle of their 
inaccessible peace. But now even the dream of their peace 
is gone. The suns are tom with storm and tempest com- 
pared with which our earthly tornadoes are quiet. And our 
modern knowledge tells us that the most distant planets are 
like our o^vn old earth, upheaved with earthquakes, and tom 
with volcanic fires. And the inhabitants are doubtless like 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 


129 


US. Perhaps on Venus yonder (to whose people our earth 
is the most beautiful planet in heaven) some man like me 
may be looking up to the earth, and longing for the peace 
and beauty that appears to be our lot. There is no longer 
refuge in the stars. Each must fight his own battle for him- 
self, and find heaven or hell where he is.” 

And then his thought turned to his love ; and he medi- 
tated, — 

“ It were easy enough to fight the battle, if you were not 
involved in it, Madge. It isn’t easy to turn one’s back on 
friends and old associations, — to have those who love us 
think we have given up God, and fallen forever into the 
hands of evil. But all this could be borne. But to pain 
your heart, perhaps — to lose you ! O Madge, I can’t en- 
dure it ! ” 

For he had learned so much of her nature, and knew her 
past training so well, that he feared her sense of duty — 
which was no less strong than his own — might make her 
sacrifice even her love, though at the price of desolating her 
life, rather than yield to what she had always been taught to 
hate and fear as the enemy of God. And it was just this 
grand heroism of her character that made him admire her. 
She was of the same moral fibre as the judge, her father. 
She would have been a martyr, and sung and gloried in the 
flames, in the days when such things were. And her love ' 
only intensified this. She loved as passionately as she wor- 
shipped : only the love and the worship must not conflict. 
And Mr. Forrest saw, with admiration mingled with terror, 
that her present light would drive her very noblest qualities 


130 


BLUFFTON. 


into opposition to the now roused sense of duty in his own 
soul. It would be conscience against conscience, — God 
against God. 

“ And herein,” he said, ‘‘ is the tragedy of duty. What 
shall become of poor, weak, human hearts between two such 
forces, neither of which can give way? And yet, O God ! I 
must be true, though it means being ‘ damned for thy glory.’ 
I shall lose her, if I am true ; and yet, if I am not, I shall 
not be fit to win her. Charybdis and Scylla, on one of you 
I shall wreck.” 

He now rose again, but could not bear to go into the 
house. He was in no mood for sleep. He wandered and 
thought till he found himself on the summit of Bowman’s 
Hill, above the calm river that held the stars on its bosom. 
He looked over toward the cottage ; and there was uncle 
Zeke, leaning over his fence and looking up at the sky, as 
though he had come out for a breath of fresh air before 
going to bed. 

“ Uncle,” said Mr. Forrest “ it looks peaceful up there. 
I wish the world was as quiet as the heavens seem to be.” 

“Why, Mr. Forrest ! what’s turned you into a night-walker? 
Folks ain’t gin’ally trampin’ round up here at bedtime.” 

“ Well, I’m restless, and don’t feel like sleep.” 

“ In love, mebbe. I was in love onct ; but ” (rubbing his 
eyes with his rough fist) “ she died, and I never cared for 
nobody else. But when I fust loved, and before the shad- 
der come, I used to couldn’t stay in the house sech nights 
as this ; used to wander round, and think how much more 
light ther’ wuz in her eyes fer me than there wuz in all the 
stars.” 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. I3I 

By this time uncle Zeke and Mr. Forrest were fast friends. 
The old man had found in the new minister a touch of fresh, 
true manhood, and a rational view of religion, that won his 
respect, and now he would have done any thing for him 
that a Newfoundland would have done for his master ; and 
Mr. Forrest found in him a bit of true and sound wood, 
though gnarly in the grain, that gave him a new respect for 
the raw material of healthy human nature. 

So, though he did not resent the reference to his love, 
the subject was too sore and sacred to be handled by any 
human touch ; and he therefore waived the point, and sim- 
ply said, — 

“ I’m thinking, uncle Zeke, that I’ll have to leave Bluff- 
ton.” 

“Why, you only come in June; and now it’s jest gittin’ 
well on into spring. Not a year yet. What do you mean? ” 

“ I mean, I can’t stay, and be an honest man.” 

“ Why, Mr. Forrest, I’se goin’ ter say you’s a’most the 
only honest man here ; an’ you oughtn’t to talk o’ goin’.” 

“ But what if I can’t be honest if I stay? ” 

“Your remarks is way off color to me. I don’t sense 
what yer drivin’ at.” 

“ Well, I’m driving at this. The church is orthodox. 
You know I am not, — or you wouldn’t like me as I think 
you do, — and so I am where I do not belong. Does it 
look clear now? ” 

“ Yis, Mr. Forrest, it doos ; clearer’n I wish it did. You 
know how I’ve lamed to like you ; an’ you’ve throwed light 
fer the fust time on tough things that used ter trouble jne. 


132 


BLUFFTON. 


You know,” he huskily added, for his voice was getting low 
in his throat, “ I told yer I liked the looks o’ ye, the fust time 
I sot eyes on ye that Sunday momin’ arter you come by the 
boat ; and I know how the pious cusses — beg parding, Mr. 
Forrest, but I can’t help it — are raisin’ a rumpus behind 
yer back. I knowed a fuss was cornin’. But can’t ye fight 
it out, and stay?” 

“ But I ought not to stay in an orthodox church if I don’t 
belong there.” 

“ No more ye’d ought,” said uncle Zeke, “ though it tugs 
a mighty heap at my heart to say so. ’Twill be orful lone- 
some. An’ yit I shouldn’t ’spect you ef you wam’t true to 
yer convictions ; coz that’s what I take to yer fur.” 

If Mr. Forrest had had any hesitation, the re-enforcement 
of uncle Zeke’s simple clear-headedness would have given 
his conscience the victory. 

^But as he tvurned to go back to his study, uncle Zeke said 
cheerily, — 

“Well, Mr. Forrest, mebbe ’twon’t come to that now. 
They may have sense ’nough to own up you’re right, and 
change ter your platform. But ye’ll be a man, anyhow.” 
And, as he wrung his hand with a hearty but rough grip, he 
added, “ God bless you ! God bless you ! The world’s big, 
my dear boy; an’ somewhere ther’s folks that’ll listen to 
you, though I’ll be hungry for a relig’n ’thout the brains 
out on’t. 

“ But ’tain’t come yit ; and p’raps ye’ll see yer way out 
now.” 

The ordeal was over ; and the recording angel had written 


A SOUL COME TO JUDGMENT. 


133 


it down, that another soul had stood before the eternal judg- 
ment-seat, and passed among those who were on the right 
hand of the Judge. 

And, as Mr. Forrest walked home, his heart was as quiet as 
the stars appeared, though still a sadness, like a minor chord 
in music, made itself heard in the song of triumph that 
the angel thoughts sung in his soul. 


134 


BLUFFTON. 


XIV. 

THE OFFENCE. 

I T was now toward the first of May. What with private 
thought and study, with regular preaching, and the extra 
labor of the revival season ; with parish work, and efforts 
among the poor ; with the endless routine, and the thousand 
and one calls that come to the man who is everybody’s ser- 
vant and who yet is generally regarded as having nothing to 
do, — Mr. Forrest found himself much worn, and needing, if 
no more, a brief rest. A little matter of business also re- 
quired his attention. And, besides this, it seemed to him 
that the change of a short trip among new scenes might 
help clear his head, and strengthen his right resolves, after 
the internal ferment he had passed through. Who knew but 
something might occur to open a way for him out of his 
present wilderness ? 

It being now for some time well known that he was en- 
gaged to Miss Margaret, he was accustomed to spend much 
of the little leisure he had by her side. He forgot all evil 
and trouble in the light of her face. With her he was in 
paradise ; and only when he left her did he go out and down 
into the confusion and struggle of life. But, when he was 


THE OFFENCE. 


135 


out, the thought that some day he might be shut out, and 
see only the cherub and flaming sword forbidding entrance 
again, made him faint and sick at heart. 

He could hardly bear to leave her long enough for his 
contemplated trip. 

“ Madge,” said he, as he stood by her side at her window, 
looking out on the fresh spring morning, “ I can’t bear to be 
away from you long enough for th;s trip. I feel as though 
some horrible power were waiting to steal you from me as 
soon as I am away.” 

“ Why Mark, what a sickly fancy ! That very feeling is a 
reason why you should go. It’s because you are nervously 
worn with your work. You’ll come back with the clouds all 
out of your brain.” 

“ You want me to go, then? ” 

“ Please don’t be cruel, Mark. You know how I love to 
have you near me. But I love you enough to want you 
away when duty calls, and it is for your good.” 

“ Two weeks seems so long now ! ” 

“ I shall indeed be homesick for you. But think of me 
as happy and glad for you, and as looking East till you are 
West again.” 

He drew her to him, smoothed a loose lock of hair on 
her forehead with his hand, and then, lifting her fair round 
face till it looked in his own, gazed long and lovingly in 
her eyes, and kissed her a passionate good-by. 

Little did he dream, in spite of his words of foreboding 
to Madge, that his trip to New York was to be the rising of 
a little cloud out of the east, that, gathering blackness, was 
to spread west, and darken all his horizon. 


136 


BLUFFTON. 


It is no part of our purpose to describe his journey, what 
he saw, said, or did. He looked after his business affairs : 
he visited several friends, one an old physician, at whose 
house he spent several days. When he returned, he had in 
his care a stranger, a lady, whom he left at the house of his 
friend Mr. Winthrop, at Maple City. There was much con- 
fidential talk between him and Tom ; but nothing that, as 
yet, we have any right to overhear. 

Before Mr. Forrest left Bluffton, the excessive heat that in 
spring visits these low-lying river towns had already raised 
the fear of a coming epidemic. Occasional cases of cholera 
had been heard of in towns farther down the river. And 
now the hot May, combined with the lack of any proper 
sanitary care, had prepared a way for it at Bluffton. 

At its first appearance, many of those who could afford to 
do so left the place. Or those who lived on the hills, where 
the air was pure, shut themselves in their homes, and left 
the town to shift for itself. As usual in such cases, those most 
exposed, living in the lower and poorer parts of the city 
were unable either to flee, or to defend themselves where 
they were : so the disease cut them down. The physicians 
stood bravely at their posts ; but their great difficulty was to 
get any one to nurse and look after their patients. The fear 
of the ravager drove even family friends and relatives into 
the selfish struggle to save themselves. 

But a few heroic souls remained, and, passing from one 
house to another, did what they could for the dying, and 
helped pay the last rites for the dead. Among the foremost 
of these was Mrs. Grey. She was everywhere the tireless 


THE OFFENCE. 1 37 

watcher and nurse, night as well as day. Mr. Smiley re- 
marked to a friend, — 

“ I have no doubt this is a judgment of God on the wck- 
edness of the city ; and it isn’t for us to interfere. When 
he has taken vengeance, he will stay his hand.” 

And he sent a ©ote to Mrs. Grey, one extract from which 
read as follows : — 

“You know I have always been interested in the welfare of your 
soul. You have been an infidel, and a scoffer at the ordinances of 
God ; and I warn you not to peril your life in this way until you make 
your peace with him.” 

She sat down where she was, beside a sick-bed, and, turn- 
ing the note over, she wrote on its back, and returned it with 
these words : — 

“ You think this is a supernatural judgment of God on the wicked. 
Unless, then, you regard yourself as one of the wicked, and liable to 
its stroke, why do you not leave the safety of your hillside, and come 
down and help us? Do you think God cannot smite the hill, or 
that he cannot keep you here? I think it the natural result of the 
ignorance and filth of the people. But, though they have brought it 
on themselves, still I must help them what I can. I haven’t time now 
to ‘save my soul : ’ I am too busy saving the bodies of others. Would 
it not be well for you to read the words of him you regard as God ? — 
‘ He that saveth his life will lose it ; and he that loseth it for my sake 
will save it.’ ” 


He was astonished, and felt insulted, at an ‘‘infidel’s” 
daring to rebuke him, the leading man in the church. But 
she went on with her work. 


138 


BLUFFTON. 


But the prolonged watching, and the breathing of the 
malarious air, were telling upon her. And when the epi- 
demic began to abate, and when she thought her labors were 
well-nigh over, she awoke to a recognition of the symptoms 
in herself; and, the very morning on which Mr. Forrest 
returned from New York, she was carried to her hillside 
cottage, to pay the penalty of her devotion with her own life. 

Uncle Zeke met Mr. Forrest at the levee ; and, as he 
grasped his hand, he said, — 

“ Bad news for ye, Mr. Forrest. She’s jist ben an angel 
while ye ben gone ; and now she’s took.” 

Mr. Forrest had learned of the epidemic ; but not having 
heard of Madge since leaving New York, his first thought 
was of her ; and he exclaimed, — 

“ Who, Uncle Zeke ? Miss Hartley ” — 

“ No, no : Miss Hartley is well, though she’s done all she 
could. But Mrs. Grey is took, and I’se afraid for the wust.” 

“ But where is she? ” he hurriedly inquired. 

“ They’ve car’ed her home,” said he. 

“ Thank you, uncle, for telling me. I must go to her at 
once.” 

And before going even to speak to Madge, he hastened to' 
the house of Mrs. Grey. He found his worst fears justified. 
She was sinking rapidly. Her face lighted with joy and 
welcome as he went in, and took her hand, already clammy 
and cold. 

“O Mrs. Grey!” he exclaimed, while the tears blinded 
his eyes, “ I can’t have it so 1 I’ve learned to love you like 
a mother.” 


THE OFFENCE. 1 39 

‘‘Thanks, Mr. Forrest,” she whispered. “I’m so glad to 
hear you say so ! But the clock is running down.” 

“ Only two weeks gone,” he cried. “ I didn’t think of 
this.” 

“ But,” she whispered again, “ it is all right. I have done 
what I could. It was such a comfort to see how glad and 
grateful they were ! I couldn’t desert them. 

“And,” she added, “ I haven’t any fear. It’s as well now 
as ever. It must come ; and it had better come in the way 
of duty. Life purchased by neglect of the suffering isn’t 
worth having ’ ’ — and her voice sunk away. 

“But speak to me once more,” he cried. “Is it all 
well?” 

“ All well,” she added, rousing for a moment. “ If, as I 
hope, there’s a future, we’ll meet. If not, still God does us 
no wrong. We’ve had life, — a chance to help our fellow- 
men. Be true, and — all is — well.” 

And she sunk into a lethargy, from which she roused no 
more. Mr. Forrest put his cheek to her lips to find if he 
could feel her breath; and, seeing that she breathed no 
more, he kissed her forehead, and sprinkled it with tears. 

“ O God ! ” he exclaimed, “ whatever she is called, here 
sleeps one of thine own saints.” 

The town was full of grief, and loud were her praises on 
the lips of all the common people, when they heard that she 
had given up her life for them ; and for a time all criticism 
of her opinions was shamed into silence in the presence of 
her noble life and nobler death. 

As her house was small, and so many of those she had 


140 


BLUFFTON. 


befriended clamored for the privilege of following her to the 
grave, it was determined that the funeral should be in the 
church. Under ordinary circumstances it would have been 
opposed as a profanation of the sanctuary; but any such 
move now would have been so frowned upon by the public 
sentiment, that it was not to be thought of. 

So the very next afternoon the church was crowded with 
a sorrowing throng. As Mr. Forrest looked over them he 
could not help thinking of the story of Dorcas, and how, 
when she was dead, the widows came together weeping, and 
showing the garments that Dorcas had made ; and, indeed, 
he read this story as a part of the scripture-service appropri- 
ate to the scene. 

When a hymn had been sung, he rose, and gave out his 
text, — 

“ I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I 
have kept the faith : henceforth there is laid up for me the 
crown which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at 
that day.” 

After his long struggles and her motherly friendship, and 
this heroic sacrifice of herself, he was in no mood to pay 
regard to theological prejudices. He must speak his heart 
out, if he spoke at all. 

He began with a brief sketch of her life, as she had given 
it to him in their many conversations. He pictured her 
hard, puritanical childhood; how she had longed for fa- 
therly and motherly kisses and love, when only severe care 
and the hard training of duty had been accorded her ; how 
she had been repressed and discouraged to keep back, as 


THE OFFENCE. 


I4I 

they thought, any sinful pride. He spoke of restricted Sun- 
days, and how church and religion had been made hateful 
to her by showing her only its angular side ; how even her 
love for birds and flowers was repressed and denied, as 
savoring of idle vanity ; then, how she had fought her way 
out of this into a belief in and love for a God who was the 
tender, loving Father of us all. He spoke of her married 
life, of her devotion and sacrifice to her husband; and 
then, amid the broken sobs of the many she had helped, he 
pictured her life of beneficence in Bluffton. And when he 
reached the last two weeks, and what she had dared and 
borne for others, and with no thought of or hope for reward, 
his own voice faltered, and he could hardly command his 
words. 

Pausing then a moment, he said, — 

“ Such, friends, is her past life, and such her death. I 
well know the odium that attaches to her in this city on 
account of her theological opinions. But to me it seems 
paltry, in the presence of her high and holy sacrifice, to 
speak of such superficial distinctions. If ye cannot gather 
grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles, as the Master says, then 
by what name shall we call her? Grapes and figs of noble 
character and unselfish service for her fellows she most 
assuredly has borne. And, since the tree is known by its 
fruits, she can have been none other than sound-hearted and 
true. I dare to call hers a noble Christian life. Let those 
criticise her who have lived as well. And, if none others 
lift their voices, there will be the silence of reverent praise. 

“ She has fought a good fight,— a fight for all good and 


142 


BLUFFTON. 


noble causes. She has kept the faith, — a faith in God, in 
duty, in mankind. She has finished her course, — a course 
back over which she can look, and see no cause for shame. 
And now, I trust, there is indeed kept for her a crown; 
for the Lord, being a righteous judge, must love and reward 
righteousness in his children. 

“ It seems almost an insult, in the presence of her pure 
spirit, to defend her. But, if ‘ in all nations he who doeth 
the will of God is accepted of him,’ then surely there will 
be welcome for her. What she has thought is little : what 
she has done is much. The creed is little if it do not make 
the deed. And, when the deed is found, the creed may be 
inferred. And if indeed there be a heaven where righteous 
souls are after death, then at her coming there must have 
risen the cry, ‘ Lift up your heads, O ye gates,’ that the right- 
eous one may enter in ! ” 

He then closed his simple service by reading the follow- 
ing verses : — 

“ O apple, apple, on the bough, 

What of your root ? ” cried he ; 

“ Thou lookest sweet and very fair ; 

But tell me about the tree.” 

The apple replied, “ Come, taste the fruit : 

Thou need’st not dig about 

The root, nor saw the trunk in two, 

To find its nature out. 

If I be sound in core, and sweet, 

Then trust the tree and root ; 

For the juices of the tree do make 
The flavor of the fruit. 


THE OFFENCE. 


143 


If the fruit is bitter, no matter then 
How fair the trunk may be ; 

It cumbers the ground : so take thine axe, 
And, gardener, hew down the tree.” 


So is it in the lives of men : 

The fair outside may show 
Like a tree of paradise ; but God 
If it bear good fruit doth know. 

The procession formed, after the great multitude had 
taken their last look, and wound its slow way round the bluff 
to the hillside cemetery as it sloped down to the river. The 
grave had been opened beside her husband ; and the loving 
thought of the poor, who could pay her no other tribute, 
had covered all the freshly thrown-out clods with evergreens, 
and with the same material had completely lined the grave. 
So as the coffin was lowered it seemed to be let down into 
an amaranthine bower of fadeless green. The repulsiveness 
of the grave was gone ; and she was only put away to sleep 
on the green bed of the branches. 

The scene was one of wondrous though saddening beauty. 
The sun was low in the west, and his sloping beams fell 
through and slipped under the trees, and lay like golden 
bars upon the green of the grass. The ripples on the river 
twinkled and sparkled in the light, and stretched off, crink- 
ling and shimmering by the islands, till lost as the headlands 
closed in. The air was soft and still, hardly moving a leaf, 
save where now and then a silver poplar kept up its perpet- 
ual aspen tremble. And, as Mr. Forrest read the last words 


144 


BLUFFTON. 


of the service, it seemed to him he could ask no more 
fitting or sunny close to a life in whose sky had been so 
much of cloud and storm. When he had pronounced the 
benediction, he murmured under his breath, — 

“ ‘ So He giveth his beloved sleep.’ ” 

And now when the formal ceremony was over, they gath- 
ered about him, this one and that, to tell him of some little 
deed of mercy of which he had never heard before. 

When all else had gone, Mr. Forrest staid beside the 
old sexton, who was filling in the grave. He lived in a little 
cottage near the cemetery- gate, a mile or more from the 
to^vn. He stopped in the midst of his work, leaning on his 
spade ; and, when he had wiped his eyes with his rough 
sleeve, he said, — 

“O Mr. Forrest, I didn’t think she’d come so soon arter 
I’d put my own little one in the ground ! ” 

“ Have you, then, lost a child lately? ” 

“ Yes, sir : little Clary’s gone since you been away. Mrs. 
Grey heard we’s sick, and come clear up the hill here to 
help us, though she’s all wore out then. We’re too poor to 
have a doctor ; and, ’sides, the doctors was too driven down 
to the city. An’ then, when she died there warn’t no minister 
’t I felt I could ask, because I don’t go nowhere to church. 
An’ this blessed angel, she come up an’ put her little white 
dress on Clary, and put a rose in her hand; an’ then,” — 
here he choked a minute, and buried his face in his hands, 
— “I couldn’t ’ford no hearse : so we two, and mother all 
broke down, an’ leadin’ Johnny and Fred, we took the little 
white pine coffin on my old wheel-barrow ; and she helped 


THE OFFENCE. 


145 


me put her away to sleep over under that little tree in the 
comer. God bless her ! she was like the sunshine, ready to 
look down soft and sweet on all on us.” 

And here he sat down on the heap of earth, and sobbed 
like a child. 


146 


BLUFFTON. 


XV. 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


NLY a few days had passed before Mr. Forrest learned 



that the words he had spoken of Mrs. Grey were to 
come back to trouble him. His breath had started a breeze 
that might gather to a storm. At first, in the excitement 
and fresh sorrow of her loss, the unchurched reverence for 
her was a sentiment too strong to be overlooked. But all 
these sorrows pass away, and people become absorbed in 
their own life again. Then his words were remembered; 
and the orthodox party in all the churches took the alarm. 
A minister of the gospel had dared to set up as a pattern- 
saint, and even profanely open the gates of heaven to, an 
“ infidel.” It was not to be endured. Those who had kept 
at a safe distance when the cholera was abroad now came 
out boldly to depreciate the services of her who had given 
her life for those in danger. Her devotion counted for 
little : her opinions only were remembered. “ He that 
believeth and is baptized shall be saved ; and he that be- 
lieveth not shall be damned,” said the Baptists. Each 
different church thought her soul was certainly lost, because 
she was not “ of them.” For very few of the people in 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


147 


Bluffton had any hope of the salvation of members of other 
churches even, except their own. So of course there was 
small hope for one not in any church at all. 

Mr. Smiley made a special visitation of the parish, and, in 
the claimed interests of the church, prayed and wept with 
all the old ladies over their pastor’s heresy. He said, — 

“ Why, only think what it means ! If Mrs. Grey is to be 
sent right to heaven, what need is there of our blessed gos- 
pel of salvation ? Where is salvation by faith ? What is the 
use of prayer and revival meetings ? Why send the gospel 
to the heathen? The other churches all about us are point- 
ing their fingers at us, and wondering that we allow such 
things to go on.” 

And when he met Mr. Forrest, coming out of a house 
after one of these visits, he smiled the same sweet smile as 
ever, — the one he ordinarily wore, — and grasped his hand 
with a — 

“ I’m so glad, my dear pastor, that you were away during 
this fearful divine visitation ! We did what we could ; but 
the will of God will take its way. Mrs. Grey will be a great 
loss to the poor. A woman of great benevolence was Mrs. 
Grey. Only it is a pity she had not the grace of God in 
her heart.” 

Mr. Forrest had to bite his lips to keep back a sharp 
retort on his cant, that now he had learned to estimate ; but, 
crowding back his words, he turned abruptly, and walked 
away. 

And now the town was beginning to whisper under its 
breath something more appetizing to its vulgar taste, if not 


148 


BLUFFTON. 


SO great a theological crime as heresy. Rumor, particularly 
if scandalous, seems to have been in league with Puck, and 
to have learned from him how to “ put a girdle round the 
earth in forty minutes.” 

Mr. Forrest had hardly been back from New York a day 
before Mr. Smiley heard that at which he appeared to be 
unspeakably shocked ; though in reality he caught at it, as 
something that would help him in his opposition to the min- 
ister. This opposition was by this time well known to Mr. 
Forrest, though it had been kept carefully masked. So far 
as he could learn, it dated from the first, and had no other 
motive than the instinctive dislike of a man to hearing per- 
petually recommended that which he had the least of, viz., 
character. 

“ Deacon,” said Mr. Smiley, addressing Deacon Putney, as 
they met on the sidewalk, “just come up in my office a 
minute.” 

And when seated, he said, — 

“ I didn’t want to speak of it on the street, for fear some- 
body should overhear ; but it is my painful duty to inform 
you that the purity and honor of our Zion are threatened.” 

It was always his “ painful duty ” to say those things that 
he knew were going to hurt ; but no man living was ever 
more ready to perform “ painful duties ” of this kind. 

“ Why, Mr. Smiley,” said the deacon, his dull eyes kind- 
ling with curiosity, “what do you mean? ” 

“Haven’t you heard it?” He knew he hadn’t, but he 
wanted to make it appear as- though any one might have told 
him. 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


149 


Why, no : I haven’t heard any thing.” 

“ Well, I’m so thankful. I feared it might have got out ; 
and I am so anxious to spare the church ! ” 

In reality he was “ so anxious ” to have the privilege of 
first telling it, and appearing to be anxious for the “ good of 
the cause.” 

“ But what is it ? ” anxiously inquired the deacon. 

“ Oh ! I can’t bear to speak of it : only the officers of the 
church, the ‘ watchmen that stand on the towers of Zion,’ 
and whose duty it is to warn the people, ought to know. 
But who would have thought it ? He seemed so upright, if 
he wasn’t orthodox.” 

“ Well, do tell me what it is ! ” burst out the deacon, who 
was getting very impatient. 

Then Mr. Smiley laid his hand on the deacon’s knee, and, 
leaning forward and looking him in the face, said in a low 
and awe-ful whisper, — 

“ Why, I’ve just got it from good authority, that Mr. For- 
rest, when in New York, was seen to go, with another man, 
to a house of notorious reputation.” 

“You — don’t — say ! ” slowly and emphatically exclaimed 
the deacon. 

“And that isn’t all, nor the worst,” continued Mr. Smiley; 
“ for he took a woman from this very house, and brought her 
on the cars all the way West with him ; and she is now con- 
cealed sonxewhere in Maple City. And, though he has been 
home but a few days, he has already been up there once to 
see her. Where will such things end ? ” 

And when they had talked it over in all its bearings, and 


150 


BLUFFTON. 


agreed that it ought to be kept quiet, they went out, and 
whispered it all over the town. 

But Mr. Forrest neither knew nor cared for any of these 
things. He was not anxious as to what Bluffton thought of 
him now ; for he had a sorer trial in the state of mind of 
Miss Hartley. 

It was a rainy spring afternoon, when, having spent his 
morning in his study, and the weather making it impossible 
for him to do out-door work, he thought he would spend an 
hour or two with Madge. 

Judge Hartley had heard the whispered scandal ; but he 
was just enough not to believe all he heard, and he would 
not trouble his daughter with such things until it became 
necessary. So neither Miss Hartley nor Mr. Forrest knew 
the underground gossip of the town. But the judge and 
many others had talked to her about his theological heresies. 
She had as yet too much faith in him to think that he could 
be seriously out of the way. Still the increase of criticism 
since the funeral of Mrs. Grey determined her to have a talk 
with him. 

“Mark,” said she, as they sat together in her chamber, 
and watched and listened to the rain on the window, “ do 
you know there is one thing that is beginning to trouble 
me very much? ” 

“Why, what is it, Madge? Nothing ought to trouble one 
I love so much ; and it shall not, if in my power to prevent 
it.” 

“ It makes me glad to hear you speak like that ; for you 
are just the one that can prevent it.” 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


I5I 

“ Well, tell me what it is that I can do.” 

“ You can be like other ministers, Mark. I can’t bear to 
hear you talked about so.” 

“What do they say?” 

“ They Say you are drifting away from the truth. Tell me, 
are you? ” 

“ O Madge ! you’ve touched the one sore spot of my life. 
Yes, Madge, I suppose I am drifting, or sailing, away from 
what many think is the truth.” 

“You will help me, then, by coming back? ” 

“ I fear you’ve asked me the one thing that is out of my 
power. One cannot believe at will.” 

“ But, dear Mark, why can’t you preach as other ministers 
do?” 

“ Would you respect me if I preached what I do not be- 
lieve? ” 

“ Why, no, of course I could not ; but why can’t you be- 
lieve?” 

“ Because I have thought and read and studied.” 

“ But why need you read and study the books that upset 
your faith? They can’t be any good books that do that.” 

“ I believe them to be wise and good books, Madge.” 

“ But you are young, Mark. May you not be mistaken ? 
The Church that has believed these things so long, the great 
majority of learned men, they all must be right. They can’t 
be mistaken.” 

“ The truth doesn’t go by majorities, Madge : Christianity 
was once in the minority.” 

“Of course; but that came by inspiration. But it has 
been settled so long, it must be true.” 


152 


BLUFFTON. 


“ But even the majority of learned men are not orthodox.” 

“ I know, the great numbers of scientific men and philos- 
ophers : they follow their own wisdom, and get led astray. 
But father thinks it is wilful blindness on their part.” 

“Well, Madge, it almost kills me to have to give you 
pain.” 

“ But you don’t have to give me pain, Mark. You have 
only to be like other men in this matter. Why can’t you at 
least let these disputed questions alone, and only preach the 
simple gospel? ” 

“These problems haunt me. And then, all these ques- 
tions are linked together. I can’t treat one, and let the rest 

alone. I sometimes think I shall have to leave the church.” 

♦ 

“ O Mark ! don’t talk that way unless you want to break 
my heart. It would kill father to have me follow you 
out of the church. And I couldn’t leave him in his old 
age, and have him think me lost. His dear old face would 
haunt me forever. I don’t know much about these great 
questions. I only know I love you, I trust you. But oh, 
isn’t there some way that you can let these things rest ? ” 

“ But, dear Madge ” — 

“ Oh, don’t say there isn’t ! ” she broke in passionately. 
“ If you love me, I entreat you, dear Mark, don’t think and 
study these horrible things. It frightens me, Mark. May it 
not be that Satan is tempting you, and leading you astray ? 
Father says he often comes in the guise of human wisdom, 
to lead men away from the simplicity of the gospel.” 

“There, Madge,” he cried, “please don’t talk so any 
more. I’ll try: for your sake I’ll try to do any and all 
things save such as you would despise me for doing.” 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


153 


“Do find some way,” she added. “I can’t abandon 
father. And yet I fear it would kill me to stay with him, 
and lose you. I’m only a weak woman, Mark. I only 
know I love you dearly. I am not wise enough to help 
your thinking. You must settle that. I suppose, if father 
did not hold me by cords of duty as well as love, I should 
believe any thing you told me was true. But O Mark, don’t 
leave me, don’t leave me ! ” 

And she flung herself into his waiting arms, and poured 
out her trouble and anxiety in weeping. 

Mark soothed and comforted her as well as he knew how ; 
but did not tell her of the horrible fear, that weighed down 
his heart, that this was not the first nor worst of their 
sorrow. 

In his study that evening, when the night outside was dark 
as the rayless heaven of his soul, he went over again his 
lonely struggle. It was no longer a question as to whether 
he was to be true to his own soul ; and he was too clear- 
headed not to see that he must be prepared to face the 
worst. So his battle was only a desperate struggle with the 
inevitable. 

He plainly saw that leaving Bluffton and orthodoxy was 
separation from Madge. Not that she did not love him 
enough to follow him to the world’s end. He knew she did. 
But he knew also that she loved her father not only, but 
that she felt bound to him in this matter by the whole 
strength of her moral nature. He would think her lost to 
God and him forever ; and she could not “ bring down his 
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.” Even could he have 


154 


BLUFFTON. 


persuaded her to break this bond of her moral nature, that 
linked her to her childhood and her father so firmly, he 
would not have dared to do it. It was just this moral force 
of character in her, that made the tenderness of her woman- 
hood so lovely. He could not pluck his flower with such 
violence as to strip it of its petals. 

“ O God ! ” he cried, “ could I not have been spared this ? 
Must love, too, be sacrificed ? I could give all else gladly ; 
but this is more than I can bear ! ” 

He walked his study in silence, and alone with his sorrow. 
And, as he walked and thought, he took from his pocket- 
book a scrap that he had cut from a newspaper, and read 
over again some verses in which he had found an echo of 
his own sadness. He had looked at them often of late, and 
he saw himself between the lines. 

THE LONE VOYAGER. 

’Twas ever so, that he who dared 
To sail upon a sea unknown 

Must go upon a voyage unshared, 

And brave its perils all alone. 

Columbus, with his faith alone. 

Sailed for new worlds beyond the sea ; 

Trusted behind by few or none, — 

Around him faithless mutiny. 

And he who, not content to sit 
And dream upon the shores of truth. 

Watching the sea-bird fancies flit. 

And wavelets creep, through all his youth, — 


MADGE ENTREATS. 


155 


Must sail unblest of those behind, 

While love turns to reproach her tone : 
The loving God alone is kind 
To him who dares to sail alone. 


“ But is even God kind ? ” he exclaimed. “ I cry, but he 
does not answer. O truth, truth ! wilt thou strip thy votaries 
of all, — leaving them only their weary search for thee? ” 


156 


BLUFFTON. 


XVI. 

A TERRIBLE SUSPICION. 

I N small to^vns the store is to the men what the sewing- 
circle is to the women, their intellectual and gossip ex- 
■ change ; and the staple conversation is commonly no whit 
more important or dignified in the one place than it is in the 
other. 

Deacon Putney’s hardware store was the favorite place 
of resort. From the nature of the trade, the men could sit 
and smoke, and were not likely to be interrupted. The dea- 
con himself was always much readier to talk than to work ; 
so he left his not overcrowded custom to his clerks, while he 
sat in a basket-work armchair by the stove, and assisted in 
settling the last question of public moment. 

The question naturally uppermost now was the new scan- 
dal about the minister. If you saw two or three people 
Stopping together .on a street-corner, you were safe in sup- 
posing that this was the theme of their conversation. If 
Mr. Forrest came by, they spoke of something else, gave 
him a pleasant greeting, and then, as he passed, some one 
would remark, — 

“Nobody ’d ’a’ thought it, would they? Jnst look at 
him. Fine-looking man. Pity ! ” 


A TERRIBLE SUSPICION. 


157 • 


And then they would go on speculating about it again. 

About this time aunt Sally Rawson “felt it to be her duty” 
to speak to Miss Hartley on the subject. Some one always 
“ feels bound ” to tell what is none of his or her business 
to Just the wrong person. So she put on her bonnet and 
striped shawl, and started up to the judge’s. 

“ Miss Hartley,” said she, “ air you aware what a name 
Mr. Forrest is gittin’ ’bout town? ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” said she with some severity ; for, 
whatever had happened, she felt it no business of an out- 
sider to speak, so long as her father kept silence. 

“Well, ’f you’re goin’ to git your back up when one 
means to do you a service, then no matter.” 

“ What have you to say ? ” 

“Well, I thought ’t you’d ought to know that Mr. Forrest 
was seen with a woman in sarcumstances where ’t didn’t 
look jest right, an ” — 

“ Mrs. Rawson, you can leave the house, if you please,” 
said she quietly. “ I can learn all I wish to know of Mr. 
Forrest, from those who have a better right to speak to me 
on the subject.” 

And aunt Sally flounced out of the house in a rage. She 
went straight over to Mrs. Buck, and exclaimed, — 

“Well, if Miss Hartley ain’t the sauciest, stuck-up-est, 
pert body I ever see ! ” 

And then they guessed that any “ gal ” that would act 
that way “ warn’t no better ’n she should be, herself.” She 
“ was goin’,” aunt Sally said, “ to do her a favor ; ” but she 
“guessed she’d wait one while ’fore she offered to do 
another.” 


158 


BLUFFTON. 


Meantime Miss Hartley had such faith in Mr. Forrest, 
and in her father too, that she did not even care to question 
as to what aunt Sally was hinting at. 

It was only natural that the smouldering material should 
flame out at the store. Here, then, let us go and listen, and 
see into what voices it will hiss. 

“ It’s only natural, I say,” said Clem. Haydon : “ when 
a man gets loose in doctrine, then look out to see him loose 
in morals next. You know I told you so when he first come.” 

Clem. Haydon, so called familiarly after the Western 
fashion, was a middle-aged man, and an elder in the United 
Presbyterian church. He looked upon the Congregational 
church as lacking in soundness, anyway. And while very 
zealous for the kingdom of God, like many others, he was 
not over-sorry to see any other than the United Presbyterian 
branch going down. 

Deacon Putney had learned from the majority opinion 
of those immediately about him, that Mr. Forrest was not 
sound ; and yet he did not enjoy having a member of a rival 
church get any handle against his own. So he replied with 
a bit of vinegar in his tone, — 

“P’raps your memory’s better’n mine. I disremember 
your ever saying any thing about it when he first come.” 

“ But I did, though, right here in this store. I saw well 
* enough ’twas cornin’.” 

“ Some folks’ hind-sight’s a heap better’n their foresight,” 
observed uncle Zeke sarcastically. “I don’t ’low you 
seen it cornin’; for I don’t believe ther’s nothin’ come, 
nohow, ’cept a lot o’ mare’s-nests you fellers ’s a-settin’ on.” 


A TERRIBLE SUSPICION. 


159 


“ Oh ! he means well,” patronizingly observed Mr. Smiley, 
“but of course he don’t know what we know. And then 
what does he know about the doctrines of the gospel that 
Mr. Forrest slights?” 

“Waal, I d’ know, and I don’t care much ’bout yer doc- 
trines o’ the gospel. But Mr. Forrest preaches the practice 
of the gospel a blamed sight better’n you foller him, any- 
how.” 

“ Oh, yes ! you think so,” sneered Mr. Smiley. “ His trip 
to New York was nice practice of the gospel, wasn’t it? ” 

“All I got ter say is,” responded uncle Zeke, “that, till 
folks shows their evidence, to be talkin’ round and blackenin’ 
folks’ characters looks a big sight to me like breakin’ one o’ 
the c’mandments anyway. Ain’t there suthin’ in ther’ bout 
‘ bearin’ false witness ’ ? ” 

“ Well hit for you, uncle Zeke,” broke in Judge Harring- 
ton, a rough-spoken but ardent admirer of Mr. Forrest. 
‘ You all know I don’t go much on your churches anyhow ; 
but I do like an honest man. I don’t care about your fights 
over doctrine, and I haven’t been to church for five years 
before Mr. Forrest came. I understand he’s suffering now 
because we outsiders like him. But do you want to know 

why I go to hear him ? Because there isn’t another 

minister in town that dares to preach out what he believes. 
You make liars of them anyhow. You stand them up in 
your pulpits, and then say to them, ‘ Don’t you dare to find 
out and tell us any thing we don’t already know, or, snap ! 
goes the bread and butter out of your mouths.’ I wonder 
they ain’t a bigger set of pudding-heads than the most of 
them already are.” 


i6o 


BLUFFTON. 


“ I can’t countenance such language by my presence,” 
said Mr. Smiley, and pompously withdrew. 

“ I don’t wonder,” said uncle Zeke with an air of dry 
humor : “ do you know, I never saw a man what seemed to 
be so lonesome-like round where three or four fellers was 
tellin’ the truth.” 

“ Well,” said Clem. Haydon, who, from prudence or from 
some other reason, didn’t see fit to pick up uncle Zeke’s 
remark, “ there isn’t any other foundation for a pure moral- 
ity but faith in the Bible and the Church ; and whatever 
else Mr. Forrest has done, or has not, he has undermined 
respect for these.” 

“ But,” replied Judge Harrington, who, though rough, was 
a good lawyer and a man well read in history, “ perhaps, if 
that is so, you will be kind enough to explain how it hap- 
pens that the historical ‘ ages of faith,’ when nobody dared 
to doubt either Bible or Church, were the most completely 
immoral ages of Christendom.” 

Knowing his business and his “ confession of faith,” he 
could only reply, — 

“ I don’t believe they were. My minister would know it 
if it was so.” i 

“ But,” responded the judge, “ just as I told you, he 
wouldn’t dare say it, if he did know it. If he did, you’d 
‘ send him in his resignation,’ as black Jim said the other 
day about their minister. And he knows it mighty well.” 

“ But doesn’t morality rest on the Bible ? ” he feebly pro- 
tested. 

“No,” said the judge. “Nations that never heard of 


A TERRIBLE SUSPICION. 


l6l 


your Bible axe a big sight more moral than many of the church- 
members in town. Morality and religion made the Bible in 
the first place ; though religion had more to do with some 
parts of it than morality did.” 

“Well, I do’ know,” said Deacon Putney: “/think if 
there weren’t no Bible and no Devil, there wouldn’t be 
much goodness.” 

“ When people behave because they’re afraid of the Devil, 
do you want to know what I think of ’em?” inquired the 
judge. He expected no reply, and so continued, “ I think 
they’re sneaks and cowards instead of Christians. Mr. For- 
rest preaches the best rules and principles of right living 
I ever heard in Blufiton ; and I have my opinion — which 
isn’t a very high one — of the people that are trying to 
undermine him.” 

By this time the judge and Uncle Zeke had withdra\vn. 
Clem. Haydon and the Deacon and one or two more of their 
kind now had it all to themselves. Knowing about what 
they would say, it is hardly worth our while to listen longer. 


BLUFFTON. 


162 


XVII. 

AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 

O N the next Sunday Mr. Forrest was to be at Maple 
City on exchange with the minister there. 

On the Friday preceding, Mr. Smiley called a meeting 
of personal sympathizers at his office. Here they canvassed 
the condition of affairs ; and Mr. Forrest was officially noti- 
fied, that, at the church-meeting that evening, steps would 
be taken to call a council of the neighboring churches to 
pass upon the matter of his doctrinal soundness. “ Letters- 
missive ” would be sent out Saturday; the churches could 
appoint delegates on Sunday ; and the council was to meet 
on the following Tliursday. 

Mr. Forrest was not at all surprised ; for he supposed it 
would come soon. He did not care to stand the trial, for 
his own part; but ministerial friends, with whom he had 
discussed the coming possibility, urged him to stand for 
their sakes. They preached similar doctrine themselves ; 
and they wanted the matter brought to a test, as to whether 
there was any freedom in the church. 

Though his sympathies were all with Mr. Smiley’s party, 
yet Judge Hartley took but little active part in the matter; 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 1 63 

for he saw how distressed it made his daughter. It was 
indeed a sad blow to her ; for she saw Mark branded, and 
cast out of the church, in her foreboding fancy ; and that 
meant torn from her, or breaking her father’s heart. She 
had always been his pet ; and now in his old age he leaned 
upon her. So she plead with Mr. Forrest, whenever she 
saw him now, until he hardly dared to meet her, lest her 
sorrow and his own love should persuade him to warp or 
twist the truth from its straight uprightness. 

By this time Mr. Forrest was well aware of the whispers 
concerning his character about town ; and yet he kept per- 
fectly still, and made no explanation. He had no doubt 
these rumors would complicate affairs at the council, and yet 
he kept still. He only hoped Madge had heard nothing that 
might add a new pang to her sorrow ; but he dared not ask 
her, lest his question should be a revelation of what he 
hoped she did not know. 

Sunday came, and with it the opportunity Mr. Forrest 
wanted to talk affairs over with Tom. Of course he stopped 
at his house. After dinner was over, they had the long 
afternoon to themselves. The house faced the street ; and 
a long piazza ran round three sides, — the two ends and the 
rear. Vines clambered over it; and through their leafy 
arches one looked out on a scene of wondrous loveliness. 
The sloping river-bank, covered with native trees, stretched 
away, and by natural terraces reached the water, which here 
and there glistened between the branches. The ground 
was laid out in lawn and flower-bed, with now and then an 
artificial lake or fountain. The whole was ornamented 


164 


BLUFFTON. 


with casts of statuary, or piles of shell, or stone covered 
with lichen and moss. 

Here, then, in the warm May afternoon, the two friends 
sat, tilted back in their chairs, and with their feet on the 
rail about the piazza, as men always love to sit to rest and 
talk. Tom smoked his pipe on such occasions, and with 
the clouds of smoke filled in the pauses of their conversa- 
tion ; and, though he did not care for it alone, Mark would 
then take a cigar, and keep him company. 

They had talked for a few minutes, when Tom took out 
his pipe, and said, — 

“ What did she say when you talked with her this morn- 
ing, Mark? Isn’t she ready for you to speak yet? ” 

“ No, Tom : she can’t bring her mind to it ; and I don’t 
much wonder, after all that has passed.” 

“But it’s a mighty pity, old boy, for you to submit to 
have the puppies wagging their tongues about you all over 
Bluffton, when a word would end it.” 

“No matter : I can stand it. I promised her in New 
York that she should take her own time to speak ; and she 
shall, at whatever cost to me.” 

“ But if she only knew ” — 

“ But she shall not know, Tom. She shall not risk every 
thing now for the sake of saving me a little inconvenience.” 

“ It will make things hot for you at the council.” 

“ Then let it be hot. She shall know that I did for her 
every thing I could.” 

“ Then you won’t speak anyhow, even then? ” 

“ No, of course not. And you must not, either. You 
know you’ve promised me.” 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 1 65 

“Yes, I know I have; but I wish I had not.” He 
thought a little, and added, — 

“ It was a foolish promise. She might as well speak now 
as any time.” 

“ She shall wait till she’s forty, if she chooses, Tom.” 

“ But what of Madge ? Does she know? ” 

“ I hope not. But, if she does, she has sense, if the rest 
haven’t. That’s the smallest of my troubles about her.” 

“ Women are jealous and suspicious, Mark. You mustn’t 
ask too much of them.” 

“ If she can’t trust me a little now. I’d like to find it out.” 

“ Well, you’ll have your own way, I suppose.” 

“ But, Tom, look here. To change the subject,” said 
Mark, “ I’ve noticed, ever since I’ve been in Bluffton, that my 
intimacy with you has been a crime in the eyes of Smiley. 
Beside your heresy, has he any special reason for disliking 
you?” 

“ The same reason that all shams have for disliking the 
man that finds them out. I know him too well : that’s all.” 

“ Have you ever* had business transactions with him? ” 

“I should think I had. Having paid a tolerably high 
price for the recollection, I don’t think I’ll forget it soon 
either.” 

“ He makes a good impression on one at first.” 

“ Yes : he’s one of your devil-an-angel-of-light kind of 
fellows. That smile of his, and his pious tone, have a com- 
mercial value, Mark, and he always wears them.” 

“ I don’t see how a man can assume to be what he isn’t.” 

“ Why, his face has got to have some sort of look on it. 


i66 


BLUFFTON. 


you know ; and it don’t cost any more to have a holy one 
than any other.” 

“He has always appeared friendly to me, Tom.” 

“ Of course : why not ? Appearing friendly isn’t much 
trouble.” 

“But what have I done to offend him? I hardly under- 
stand it. He hasn’t so gigantic an intellect but that I can 
claim, without immodesty, to satisfy him that way.” 

“That’s good, Mark. I’m almost afraid you’re simple. 
His instincts are sound. He feels, from the first, that he has 
no standing on the basis of the kind of gospel you preach. 
He’s got to be saved by emotion and an external atonement, 
or there’s no show for him. You preach character all the 
time, and he don’t like it ; for, don’t you see, you’re ‘ bull- 
ing ’ the market on just that commodity that he happens 
to be out of. Unless he can ‘ bear ’ you on that line, he’s 
bankrupt.” 

“But, Tom, do you think he means to be dishonest? or 
does he cheat himself as well as others ? ” 

“ I hardly know : he’s a puzzle to me.” 

“ I’ve noticed,” continued Mark, “ that sometimes a man 
gets into ways of doing business where he’s hard and dis- 
honest so long as the effects are remote, and don’t touch 
his feeling by an actual sight of the results; and at the 
same time he’s tender and kind in cases of actual want 
about him.” 

“ Yes, I know : conscience is a queer thing. He seems to 
have his conscience under as thorough control as his face : 
it will smile on any thing he wants it to.” 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 1 6 / 

“ Now, as touching this matter, no man would willingly 
tell things to his own discredit. But he has himself told me 
of transactions of his that were simply outrageous ; and he 
seemed to be perfectly unconscious of there being any thing 
about them but smartness.” 

“ I know : conscience seems to get rusty, like old scales, 
— don’t indicate the weight accurately.” 

“ And yet, again, I occasionally find myself compelled to 
think that he purposely goes wrong. He seems deliberately 
to choose his way. Now, not long ago he told me frankly that 
even if I was right and he wrong on doctrinal matters, he 
didn’t want to know it ; for he didn’t propose to change — 
‘ choosing darkness rather than light.’ ” 

“ Of course he doesn’t. His business character is simply 
rotten. His ‘ scheme of salvation ’ still gives him a chance. 
Yours doesn’t : don’t you see ? ” 

“ But what do you know about his business, Tom ? ” 
“Well, several things. And I’ve paid a good price for 
my knowledge. For instance, I owned a share in a silver- 
mine in Colorado. It was a stock-company. I had been 
out and inspected it, found it all right, and was going to buy 
more shares. He also found out its value. Then, by secret 
agents, he got in his hands enough of the stock to control 
it, and then turned the water into it, filled it full, and let 
it stand. The rest of us, being in a minority, could do noth- 
ing. He ‘ froze us all out,’ as it is called ; i.e., made the 
mine so valueless that stock was worth nothing, and the own- 
ers had to sell for a song. I could stand it ; but it ruined 
some who had invested there all they had. After he got — 


BLUFFTON. 


1 68 

that is, stole — all the other stock, then he turned to, cleared 
the mine, and made a pile out of it. 

“ That’s the kind of money he helps on the Lord’s cause 
with.” 

“ Does he do such things often? ” 

“No oftener than he gets a chance. He’s always honest 
when he can’t help it. I happen to know that he is in the 
habit of ‘ doctoring ’ his accounts and books so as to make 
them look all right to the men whose money he is using ; and 
then suddenly, through a mysterious dispensation of Provi- 
dence, he will fail. And then he is able to get a new car- 
riage and a span.” 

“ It doesn’t seem possible that a man can live like that.” 

“ But facts ‘ lay over ’ possibilities. Take another little 
transaction. I owned a piece of ground that he wanted. 
I also wanted it, and so refused to sell. He went and 
hunted up all the old titles from the first, and found some- 
where, forty or fifty years back, a legal flaw, of which I 
knew nothing, and that in equity of course did not 
touch my right of possession. Then he comes and 
says, ‘ You can sell at my price, or I’ll take it away from 
you.’ I was helpless, and had to submit. Now, it isn’t any 
particular wonder that a man whose ‘ best holt,’ as they say, 
is piety, should look with slight disfavor on a man who 
knows such things about him.” 

“ Well, I should think not.” 

“ I must give you just one more taste of his righteous- 
ness. Not long since, through the failure of a man he was 
dealing with, about three hundred barrels of flour came into 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 1 69 

his hands. It was of the very poorest quality, made of 
damaged wheat. While it lay in the storehouse, he sent a 
man to remove all the brands, and with a little fresh paint 
transformed the whole lot into the finest quality of St, Louis 
flour, making, by a simple mark on the head, a difference 
of some three or four dollars a barrel. 

“ But the best of it was afterward. The next Sunday he 
addressed the Sunday school on the cross of Christ, and 
mingled his tears with theirs over his own pathos. And at 
the close, he told them that since the Lord had been 
singularly kind to him during the past week, and had 
specially blessed his humble efforts to make money for His 
own cause, he would therefore make them a present of a 
new library, — the old one to be sent to some . other needy 
school; and he also had some pictures and mottoes hung 
up about the room, the. two most conspicuous of them 
being, ‘ Honesty is the best policy,’ and ‘ Virtue is its own 
reward.’ 

“ Oh, but he’s a model ! ” 

“ Well, Tom, no wonder he dislikes you.” 

“ But,” said he with an ironical tone, “ it’s only my ‘ in- 
fidelity ’ he dislikes.” 

“You know, Tom,” said Mark, changing the subject with 
the air of one who had got all of that he wanted, “that 
Smiley had a sister ; did you not? ” 

“ Yes : I know a good deal about her, but I never saw 
her.” 

“ Well, what do you know about her? I have my reasons 
for wishing to know.” 


BLUFFTON. 


170 

“ I know this : All the family is dead except Smiley and 
this one sister, Mary. She was the youngest child, and must 
be about nineteen or twenty, I should guess. I have heard 
she was frail, apparently timid, and yet has a will of her 
own.” 

“ Has Smiley been kind to her ? ” 

“ Yes, before people. But he is her legal guardian ; and 
the father, a hard old man, left her share of the property in 
Smiley’s hands, so that she comes into it only on condition 
that she marries to suit him. The old gentleman thought 
women and girls should never be trusted, but ought to obey 
the father or brothers ; and Smiley was his pet, a boy after 
his own heart. So the story runs. And indeed, when I first 
met Smiley, he pretended confidences, and told me much 
of it himself.” 

“ But she hasn’t been in Bluffton since I came West.” 

“No: she lives a part of the time East; has been at 
school, and visiting with friends. So of course you haven’t 
seen her either.” 

“ I am quite familiar with her face,” said Mark equiv- 
ocally. And he added, “ I have often seen her photograph, 
so I should know her anywhere. She is quite a favorite in 
Bluffton; and, indeed, Madge has taken a great fancy to 
her. So I almost feel as if I knew her.” 

“But do you know Smiley’s latest persecution of her?” 

“About her engagement? ” 

“Yes.” 

“I have heard something. What is it?” For Mark 
wished to know if it corresponded with what he had heard 
from another source. 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. I/I 

“ Well, she became engaged, without consulting the high 
and mighty Smiley, to a capital fellow from Denver City. 
His crime was, that he had his fortune still to make, though 
he was in a fair way to make it. Smiley himself had fixed 
it up, that she was to marry one of his partners in a big 
speculation, so that he could get a bigger finger in the af- 
fair through family influence. For his 'sister, like every thing 
and everybody else, is only to him so much available means 
in the money market.” 

“Yes, that sounds like what she told me,” mused Mark, 
without thinking what he was saying. 

“ She told you : who told you ? ” quickly inquired Tom. 

Mark saw that he had almost let slip his secret prema- 
turely ; but he rallied, and replied, — 

“ Oh, a lady friend I met in New York ! She seemed to 
know all about it, and we talked it over together.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Tom : “ your answer was so queer that it 
startled me a bit.” 

Mark did not choose to explain, and so continued, — . 

“ But do you know what is to come of it? ” 

“Only that she rushed East suddenly a year ago, just 
before you came, to escape Smiley’s persecutions, and said 
she’d die before she’d marry at anybody’s dictation. And 
a strange rumor is afloat within the last month, that she dis- 
appeared suddenly from her friends in Boston, and Smiley 
has been writing everywhere to get on the track of her. I 
reckon he doesn’t care much, only for the ‘ honor ’ of his 
family. He’ll do almost any thing to save the family 
reputation. He’d even let her marry her own choice, I 
think, if public opinion touched his pride in the matter.” 


1/2 


BLUFFTON. 


Good ! I’m glad to hear you say that, Tom ; for perhaps 
his pride will help me through the matter.” 

“ Help you through what matter ? You’re talking riddles 
now. What have you got to do about it anyway? ” 

“ Perhaps more than you know. She didn’t want me to 
let you know, if I could help it.” 

“ Well, what are you talking about, Mark ? ” 

“You said a little while ago, that you had never seen 
Miss Smiley.” 

“ Of course I said so ; for I haven’t.” 

“ Yes, you have, Tom ; for she dined with us to-day.” 

“ Good heavens ! you don’t mean it ! This beautiful 
young woman you brought from New York ” — 

“ Is Smiley’s sister, Tom. There, it’s out now.” 

“ Well, this is dramatic enough. Why in creation didn’t 
you tell me so before? ” 

“ It was her wish that I shouldn’t, and you are not to 
know her even now. I told you because I thought perhaps 
you might help me work on Smiley so as to save her.” 

“ But this is stranger than what usually goes for fiction. 
If it was Smiley himself, I don’t think I should be over- 
anxious to save him. But, by Jove, I do pity the girl ; and 
I’m with you to the extent of any thing I can do.” 

“And yet, remember, I’ve promised her not to reveal 
her till she consents. She’s evidently afraid of her brother, 
and thinks he will cast her off.” 

“Let him cast, if he will. I know the man she’s en- 
gaged to, and he’s a generous, noble fellow. AVhen he 
knows her story, he’s a different man from what I think him. 


AN EXCHANGE AT MAPLE CITY. 1 73 

if he doesn’t take her to his heart. Her suffering, and 
even the touch of sin, — if there is any, — was all for his 
sake ; and he’s a villain if he deserts her.” 

“ I’m glad to hear you say that of him, for it looks like a • 
streak of daylight. If men were only a little more sensible, 
there’d be less ruin in the world.” 


174 


BLUFFTON. 


XVIII, 


THE COUNCIL. 


HURSDAY came, and with it the gathering of minis- 



J- ters and delegates from all the Bluffton association. 
The town was excited. It was usually dull; for only the 
commoner class of peripatetic amusements and theatrical 
troupes ever visited the place ; and these did not furnish 
entertainment for the church-members, because they never 
attended such things — except when they were away from 
home. Perhaps it would be unjust to say that hundreds 
of people were glad there was going to be a trial ; and yet, 
since there was going to be a trial, hundreds were glad they 
could go. Perhaps people do not like to have their neigh- 
bors houses bum up ; but, if they are going to bum, they do 
like to see the fire. So everybody prepared to be present, 
and see the permitted entertainment that was going ' to 
be exhibited free. 

Mr. Forrest had had a most painful meeting and parting 
with Madge. He knew by her face that the night had 
been spent in weeping more than in sleep. But now she 
was calm with the calmness of one prepared in prison for 
the inevitable execution. It was not Mark only, who was 


THE COUNCIL. 


17s 


to be tried : her own destiny was to be passed upon ; and 
already she saw herself alone, with all she had learned to 
look upon as fairest and sweetest in the future, blasted and 
turned to a desolation. 

They sat together a half-hour in silence, brooding over 
their own thoughts. Then the tears started in Madge’s eyes, 
and she cried, — 

“ O Mark, Mark ! Is there no way out of it even yet ? ” 

“ I can only take the next step that is clear, dear Madge ; 
and what will follow, God only knows.” 

•And now for a moment she lost control of herself, and, 
out of the anguish of her love, entreated, plead, and almost 
upbraided him, as though he had willingly brought it upon 
them. Then she begged his forgiveness, and said, — 

“ I don’t know what I say. I’m cruel : as though it were 
not hard for you, as well as for me ! ” 

He comforted her as best he could, and then they parted. 
Once more he was to see her, and then — what then, he 
dared not allow himself to think. 

The hour for the council was called. The church was 
full. The moderator and scribe were chosen, and they 
were ready for business. 

On behalf of the church, Mr. Smiley had been chosen 
to present the charges against their pastor’s orthodoxy ; 
and, when he was through, it was understood that any of 
the ministers of the association were at liberty to relate any 
conversations or teachings, of which they might have knowl- 
edge, that bore on either side of the question. 

Being called on to present his charges, Mr. Smiley rose 
and said, — 


1/6 


BLUFFTON. 


“Mr. Moderator, and gentlemen of the council, you 
will pardon me, if, out of the fulness of my heart, I say 
one personal word before I proceed to read the paper I 
hold in my hand. I loved our minister like a brother.” 
Here he stopped, took out and carefully unfolded a scented 
handkerchief, and dehcately wiped his eyes. “ Excuse me,” 
he said, “ for thus obtruding my personal feelings on a 
public audience ; but you do not know how hard it is to 
testify against your own minister of the gospel.” 

“ Oh, but he’s just an angel, he is ! ” whispered Mrs. Buck 
to aunt Sally Rawson. 

“ Angel a heap ! ” said Jane Ann, who overheard the 
aside. “Take my word for it, he’s got more hoofs than 
wings.” 

“Jane Ann, shet your mouth,” said Aunt Sally, “and 
don’t you let me hear you slanderin’ yer betters agin.” 

But Brother Smiley proceeded, — 

“Yes, I loved him like a brother. And I wish that it 
might fall to other lips than mine to speak what stern duty 
compels me to say.” (As a fact, he had log-rolled for the 
position of prominence and leadership, like a ward-room 
politician.) “And now,” he continued, “I must intimate 
beforehand that theological looseness is bad enough, — yes, 
bad enough,” he repeated emphatically ; “ but what shall be 
said when looseness concerning the gospel issues in its 
natural results of looseness of life? Yes,” he repeated, 
seeing the sensation his last words created, “looseness of 
life, my brethren. But, however, let that pass for the present, 
my brethren. It must come up in its own place. We will 


THE COUNCIL. I77 

attend to one thing at a time ; and either one or the other 
will be enough to sadden all our hearts, — yes, sadden all our 
hearts, my brethren. Excuse these tears, but nature will 
have way.” 

“ Oh the old hound ! ” vehemently exclaimed uncle Zeke 
to Judge Harrington, as they stood with a little knot of 
sympathizers just out of the door, in the edge of the vesti- 
bule. “I know he’s a-lying when he speaks agin Mr. 
Forrest’s character.” 

“Of course he’s a-lying,” replied Judge Harrington. 
“You take that as a matter of course, unless you know the 
contrary; and in this case the fee is on the Devil’s side, 
and you don’t catch him telling the truth unless it pays 
high.” 

“ Ef the days o’ mericles weren’t over, we might see Ana- 
nias and Sapphiry over agin,” added uncle Zeke. 

Meantime, sublimely unconscious of comments, and 
swelling with pious importance, Mr. Smiley continued, — 

“First, then, Mr. Moderator, it is my painful duty to 
present charges and specifications as to his theological 
soundness ; or, to speak more accurately, unsoundness, my 
brethren. Allow me, then, to read the following paper. 

‘charge first. 

“‘The Rev. Mark Forrest, being a minister of the orthodox 
church, and a member of this association, and pastor of the 
church in Bluffton, has been unfaithful to his position as a 
maintainer of the pure faith of the gospel. 

“ ‘ Specification First. — He is in the habit of using very 


178 


BLUFFTON. 


doubtful language in respect to fundamental doctrines. His 
trumpet does give a most uncertain sound. For instance, 
in sundry sermons and prayer-meeting talks, and in essays 
read at various associations, he has spoken heretically, or 
neglected to speak at all, concerning the following doctrines, 
to wit : the fall of man in Adam, and their just condemna- 
tion therefore to all the ills that the human race has suffered ; 
the doctrine of total depravity ; the atonement through the 
sacrificial blood of Christ ; election by grace ; the infallibil- 
ity of the Bible; and the everlasting punishment of the 
wicked. 

“ ‘ Specification Second. — He is known to fraternize with 
such men as Judge Harrington and uncle Zeke on the hill; 
and when they say they like his doctrine because it is differ- 
ent from the old style, instead of rebuking them, he accepts 
of their approval. 

^ Specificatioti Third. — In an essay read at the associa- 
tion held in Slidell, he expressed his belief in the horrible 
teachings of Darwin and modern science ; and, further, in a 
debate, defended the character of that arch-infidel Theodore 
Parker. 

“ ‘ Specification Fourth. — At the funeral of the late Mrs. 
Grey, a notorious infidel, who by guile had won the hearts 
of many of our young people from the truth, he dared to 
hold her up as a model ; and he accompanied his remarks 
with certain ill- concealed hits at those who hold to ‘salva- 
tion by faith,’ and do not trust, as she did, to works. 

“ ‘ Specification Fifth. — He has preached against the 
special providence of God, and assigned matters of his 


THE COUNCIL. 


179 


government to natural causes. As, for example, referring 
to a fire in the neighboring town, he denied that there was 
any proof that it was a judgment of God ; and said that 
he thought the cow that kicked the lamp over had more 
to do with it than the sins of the people. And in like 
manner he has charged diseases on a lack of sanitary care 
rather than the wrath of God.’ 

“ These, brethren, are enough. We had written out sev- 
eral more ; but they are unnecessary. We lay this charge 
before you for your consi^ration. I would not prejudice 
your minds beforehand ; and yet it is only fair to intimate 
that the matter of our second charge is far more serious, so 
far as his character is concerned, though this one touches 
far more closely the integrity of the gospel. For one may 
be a great sinner, — as I fear he is, my brethren, — and yet 
be forgiven and saved by the atoning blood ; but, if the 
^foundation be destroyed, what shall the righteous do?’ ” 

And he sat down as though he felt sure that so fitting a 
Scripture-quotation must touch all right-feeling hearts. 

Then followed remarks from various neighboring minis- 
ters, telling how they had been scandalized by the position 
Mr. Forrest had taken at different ministerial and church 
gatherings. His influence, they thought, over the neighbor- 
ing part of the State, was unfortunate. And particularly did 
it appear, that in their several towns, when Mr. Forrest came 
to speak and preach, various and sundry sinners, never at 
other times seen in the sanctuary, would come out in full 
force, and praise his sermons, and say they would go to hear 
such common-sense preaching as that every Sunday in the 


i8o 


BLUFFTON. 


year ; all of which was to the great detriment of the pure 
word of life as they dispensed it. 

“And,” said one, “it is not to be put up with, my 
brethren. Shall carnal men, led astray by their carnal rea- 
son, say the gospel is common sense? It is not common 
sense, my brethren : it is a mystery, — the mystery of god- 
liness, known only to the elect.” 

“ Yis,” said uncle Zeke, familiarly tucking Judge Harring- 
ton in the ribs : “ that’s so. I heard that feller preach onct ; 
and, sure ’nough, 'twas a mystery, — couldn’t make head 
nor tail out on’t.” 

But now the minister from Maple City, one of those who 
had urged Mr. Forrest to stand the trial, rose and said, — 

“Mr. Moderator, and brethren, it is now time that at 
least a word were spoken on the other side. There are 
several of us ministers in this association, who feel that we 
are on trial as well as Mr. Forrest. If he belongs out of 
our ministry, then we have no right to remain. We have 
urged him to stand this trial, that the matter might he 
brought to a test. We are perpetually being taunted by the 
men of science, and the freer newspaper press, because, as 
they say, we orthodox churches allow no intellectual freedom 
in our pulpits. I have been accustomed to resent and deny 
this charge. And yet, if Mr. Forrest is to-day condemned, 
my mouth will be shut, and I shall have to confess, that, 
so far as this association is concerned, the charge is true. 

“What, my friends, has Mr. Forrest done? He has 
preached a gospel of character and life. Are you ready to 
confess that you do not want these things preached ? Then 


THE COUNCIL. 


i8i 


indeed will the street taunt, that church-morality is below the 
market, be justified. He has also studied all the modem 
questions of the world in the light of science and scientific 
criticism. Can we afford to confess that we are unwilling to 
have the foundations of our faith examined? The bank 
that is not willing to have its accounts looked into is the one 
from which sensible and honest men will withdraw their 
deposits. 

“ I, for one, am ashamed of the course which so many 
churches take with their ministers. Do the pews pretend to 
have studied and understood all these great themes ? The 
idea is preposterous. And yet, in their ignorance, they 
undertake to decide as to what the minister shall declare 
to be true.” 

“ Ugh ! the insultin’ wretch ! To call us ignorant ! ” ex- 
claimed aunt Sally Rawson, under her breath. 

“ Give it to ’em ! good for you ! ” chuckled uncle Zeke. 

But the minister, unconscious of these asides,” con- 
tinued, — 

“You put a premium on the ignorance and dishonesty 
of your ministers. You make it a crime to study and learn 
any thing new ; and you make it a virtue in them to cover 
up and refuse to speak any new word of the Lord that may 
come to them. You make the bread and butter of their 
wives and children depend on their echoing your threadbare 
thoughts, instead of inviting them to go forward and be 
your leaders. Do you think that God is dead, or that he 
has no way of getting access to human hearts to-day? 

“ If the ministers of our churches are not to be per- 


i 82 


BLUFFTON. 


niitted to study all through God’s universe, and take his truth 
wherever they find it as their rightful heritage as his chil- 
dren, then there are many of us who will be glad to find it 
out; and we shall discover ways of making for ourselves 
platforms where we can speak, and where free and brave 
and intelligent men and women will listen to us.” 

A vigorous round of applause followed this brave chal- 
lenge. But when the vote was called, stupidity and preju- 
dice — as is usually the case — were found to have a 
numerical majority; and Mr. Forrest was condemned as 
heretical by a majority of three votes on the part of the 
qualified members of the council. 

And now Mr. Smiley, with the air of one whose righteous 
course Providence had at last justified, arose again. He 
pulled out his handkerchief, and prepared for another spon- 
taneous display of emotion. 

Brethren,” said he, “ satisfaction at the vindication of 
the cause of the Lord, and sorrow for my erring brother, 
contend so for mastery in my soul, that you must not be 
surprised if you see me agitated. A righteous judgment 
has been reached, my brethren, as to these theological vaga- 
ries, in spite of the unwise and ungodly defence of some 
whom pride of heart has led astray,” he looked around 
at the Maple City minister, — “and yet, as I gave you 
timely warning, this is not all, my brethren, this is not all. 
I might wish that the honor of God’s Zion could have been 
spared this disgrace ; but, my brethren, the ways of the 
Lord are mysterious, and perhaps we needed this chastise- 
ment. Perhaps, my brethren, only a humble member of 


THE COUNCIL, 


183 


this branch of our common Zion, — perhaps I needed to be 
humbled by being a member of a church whose minister 
should do such an unheard-of thing in the camp of the 
Lord. 

“ It is now my painful duty, brethren, to read our 
‘second charge. 

“ ‘ We charge that the Rev. Mark Forrest, being a min- 
ister of the gospel, and pastor of this church in particu- 
lar, has grossly shamed his office, and brought disgrace 
upon the cause of Christ, as shall be indicated in the follow- 
ing specifications. 

^ Specification First. — While on a recent visit to New 
York, the said Rev. Mark Forrest was seen, by those pre- 
pared to testify to the same, to visit a certain house of noto- 
rious character, in a disreputable part of the city.’ ” 

“ Mark, I’m not going to stand this,” fiercely exclaimed 
Tom Winthrop in a hoarse whisper, where he sat by the 
side of his friend. 

“ Yes, you are : keep still,” calmly replied Mark. 

“ But it’s an outrage on public decency.” 

“ No matter. I’ve promised ; keep still. He can’t out- 
rage any decency,” said he with quiet contempt. “ At any 
rate, hear him through.” 

^ Specification Second. — This same Rev. Mark Forrest, 
on leaving New York, travelled in company with an un- 
known woman, whom he has left concealed at Maple City. 

“ ‘ Specification Third. — And only last Sunday — beside at 
least one previous visit — he visited this aforesaid unknown 
woman, and was actually seen in her company.’ 


184 


BLUFFTON. 


“And now, my brethren,” — and he stopped once more to 
cough, and wipe his eyes, though there appeared a lament- 
able dearth of moisture, — “ my painful duty is accom- 
plished. No one knows so well as my humble self, with 
what painful reluctance it has been performed. But, my 
brethren, the Lord’s cause must be vindicated, and his 
Church purged from corruption. I therefore wish to bring 
this unspeakably painful scene to a close. To that end, 
with your permission, Mr. Moderator, I will read a resolution 
which has just been handed me.” (He had written it him- 
self that morning, and put it into the hands of a clerk to 
give to him at the proper time. He wished it to appear as 
prepared by some one else equally anxious with himself for 
the purity of Zion.) “ This resolution is as follows : — 

“ Resolved, — That it is the sense of this council of ministers and 
fathers in the Church, that the Rev. Mark Forrest be deposed from 
the ministry of the gospel, of which he has shown himself unworthy ; 
and that the churches of our common faith be duly apprised of his 
misdemeanors, and warned that he is not a suitable person to admit to 
their pulpits.” 

He had hardly finished reading, when the smothered 
excitement and indignation broke out ; and cries of “ No, 
no ! ” “No gag-law ! ” “ Proof, proof ! ” arose from several 
parts of the house. 

“Why do the heathen rage agin the Lord’s anointed ? ” 
piously ejaculated old Mrs. Buck. 

“ It’s a confounded outrage ! ” shouted old uncle Zeke. 

“Mr. Moderator,” called out 'Judge Harrington, “though 
not a member of this council, I am a member of this town, 


THE COUNCIL. 1 8 $ 

and a friend of Mr. Forrest. This is indecent and lawless; 
and in the name of justice I protest.” 

The apoplectic face of Mr. Smiley was now flushed and 
red with disappointment, and then lividly pale with rage. 
His policy forsook him for a moment ; his smile that he 
wore was lost in the underlying deep sea of hate that came 
to the surface, and swamped it as bubbles are lost in a storm. 
He tried to gain the ear of the house; but there were 
enough present who were in no mood to hear him further, 
to prevent it. In the midst of the general excitement, Mr. 
Winthrop jumped to his feet, and closed an excited consul- 
tation with Mr. Forrest by exclaiming, — 

“ No, Mark, I’ll bear it no longer. This is too much for 
any promise made in the dark. It’s better so. I see day- 
light now.” 

He leaped on the platform by the pulpit, and stood 
silent, pale, and determined. The sight of Mr. Forrest’s well- 
known friend in this unusual position roused everybody’s 
curiosity, and startled the house into sudden silence. 

Mr. Smiley looked as though he would like to rend him 
like a tiger ; but policy, — now uppermost again, — and the 
will of the council, kept him still in his seat. 


BLUFFTON, 


1 86 


XIX. 

TOM SPEAKS. 

M r. moderator,” calmly and deliberately began 
Mr. Winthrop, “ I am perfectly well aware that this 
is not formal. But this is no time for forms. I am not a 
member of this council ; and without your permission I 
have no right to speak.” — “ Go on ! go on ! ” rose in deter- 
mined cries all over the house. “ But I suppose what you 
want is the truth, something on the basis of which you can 
render an impartial decision. I happen to be in possession 
of facts that have a vital bearing on the question before you ; 
but if you do not care to listen to them in this place, from 
me, I shall find other ways of bringing them to your atten- 
tion.” 

At this point Mr. Smiley rose placidly to his feet, and 
said, — 

“Mr. Moderator, this is an unusual and extraordinary 
proceeding. I protest ” — 

“ Sit doAvn ! Sit down ! ” “ Hear Mr. Winthrop ! Hear 

Mr. Winthrop ! ” “ Fair all round, I say ! ” and other such 

impatient cries, broke from all parts of the house. 

Mr. Smiley saw it was no use, and angrily gave way. 


TOM SPEAKS. 


187 


Mr. Winthrop proceeded, — 

“ If you should not hear me, friends, it would not balk 
my purpose ; and yet I thank you for permitting me to go 
on.” 

Mr. Forrest now sat with his face in his hands, and, since 
he could do no otherwise, let his friend have his way. 

He said, — 

“ I am the life-long personal friend of Mr. Forrest. I am 
proud of the honor ; and I will not see him unjustly 
harmed, so long as I have power to stand in his defence. 
Haying known him from a boy, I know on what good 
ground I speak, when I say that he is incapable of a mean 
or unmanly thing. 

“You know me well enough to understand that I do not 
care to meddle in your purely theological quarrels ; though 
what better a church ever can do than to build up true 
manhood and womanhood in society, as your minister has 
tried to help you do, is more than I pretend to understand. 

“I think I know enough of the men and passions of 
Bluffton to know with whom all this trouble has originated.” 

“ Do you mean me, sir? ” severely asked Mr. Smiley, who 
now rose to a point of order. 

“Mr. Moderator,” continued Mr. Winthrop, “if I am 
not mistaken, this is an occasion on which personalities that 
bear on the trial are permitted ; and, since the character of 
a witness has some important relation to his testimony, I am 
willing to answer the gentleman’s question ; ” and, turning 
and looking him full in the face, he said, — 

“ Yes, Mr. Smiley, I mean yoti. And,” proceeding rapidly 


i88 


BLUFFTON. 


before he could again be interrupted, “ whenever the church 
will proceed to investigate them, I am ready to present 
charges that will convince the most prejudiced that it is 
Mr, Smiley, and not Mr, Forrest, that ought to be on trial,” 

While this was being said, Mr, Smiley was terribly excited, 
in spite of his herculean effort to appear the typical meek and 
lowly disciple. He had on his office-look when only clerks 
and strangers were in ; and all his prayer-meeting face was 
gone. But his efforts to control himself made him look as 
though a compressed blood-vessel might burst at any 
moment. 

The scene over the house was one to be remembered. 
Judge Harrington looked happy; uncle Zeke was radiant; 
Deacon Putney, the conflict not being settled, did not yet 
know how he ought to look, and so really did look confused 
and foolish. Aunt Sally and Mrs, Buck were horror-stricken 
at an infidel’s being in the pulpit, and appeared to expect 
a lightning-stroke to smite the church for such “goings-on,” 
Jane Ann added to her mother’s horror by ejaculations of 
unregenerate delight at seeing Mr, Smiley getting, for once, 
what she ambiguously termed “his come-uppance,” 

But the apparent determination of the house to hear Mr, 
Winthrop through brought everybody at last to quiet again, 
and he went on, — 

“ But the main thing on which I wish to be heard is not a 
theological one, I happen to know the facts of the visit of 
Mr, Forrest to New York, He would have kept still, and 
allowed himself to be condemned through his honorable 
fidelity to a sacred promise. I also — little knowing that 


TOM SPEAKS. 


189 


things would come to such a pass as this — had promised to 
keep his secret. And I might do so even now, did I think the 
lady’s interest would be perilled by my speaking. But, since 
I now believe otherwise, I cannot allow a true man to be 
slaughtered by the lying tongue of scan'dal. I have an 
interesting story to tell, — a story whose interest may be pain- 
ful to some before I am through, and that ought to make 
the ears bum that listen. 

“ A certain beautiful young lady was the ward of a domi- 
neering brother. She lived, no matter where as yet. She 
was, in love with and engaged to a noble man, that this 
brother opposed. Being of a timid and yielding disposi- 
tion, and all her inherited property being in her brother’s 
hands, he easily frightened and coerced her to his will. This 
in all ordinary matters. But even the weakest will some- 
times rebel; and when this brother proposed to compel 
her to marry another man against her will, for the purpose 
of helping on some business schemes of his own, she fled 
from home, and went to visit friends in an Eastern city. 
She would have sent for the one to whom she was engaged, 
and been secretly married, only that she was too proud to 
tell him her reasons, and he was not in a business position 
to make it seem desirable as yet for some time. Meanwhile 
her brother refused to send her money, and she became 
despondent. She thought of suicide, or, at any rate, did 
not seem to care what became of her. Her friends watched 
her, fearing she might lose her reason. One day she disap- 
peared. They traced her to Fall River, and aboard the New 
York boat, and then lost the track. She sat up late, and 


BLUFFTON. 


190 

meditated flinging herself into the Sound. She would walk 
the saloon, go out on the deck, and watch the black water 
as it sped past, and then, shuddering, enter the saloon again. 
This she did several times. She wished for death, but 
lacked the resolution. 

“ She had noticed that she was watched by two men ; but 
she did not think of fear on a public boat, and she was too 
much absorbed in her own sorrow to keep watch of their 
movements. Toward midnight, as she passed, with her 
head down, by the long rows of staterooms, a door suddenly 
opened, she felt herself dragged irresistibly in, and, before 
she could open her lips to scream, she was gagged and 
bound. 

“ When she came to herself she awoke in a room most 
gorgeously furnished, and, to her horror, discovered what had 
passed and where she was. She was an involuntary inhabit- 
ant of one of the gilded dens of vice in the great metropo- 
lis. Here was something worse than the death she sought. 
At first she was frantic : she determined to escape at all 
hazards. And then the appalling thought came over her, 
that she was branded now, and past hope. No one would 
believe her story. They would think she had come there 
by her own fault. If her brother had been cruel before, 
what would his wounded pride make him now? And she 
knew him so well as. to feel that perhaps, since she would 
not marry the man he had chosen to further his own inter- 
ests, he would be glad to be rid of her, and so get her fortune 
that he now held only in trust. And then her lover, — of 
course he was now lost forever : he would never take a wife 


TOM SPEAKS. 


I9I 

whose reputation was tainted. And how could she face the 
world? They would point their fingers, and hiss through 
their teeth, in whatever station she might move. What won- 
der if, under such considerations, her resolution to escape 
gave way, and she made up her mind to submit to what 
seemed the inevitable? 

“Just now Mr. Forrest was in New York.” 

At this point the listening was breathless ; and Mr. Smiley, 
* in particular, looked on Mr. Winthrop like a fascinated 
thing. But he went on, — 

“ He visited at the house of a friend, who is an old phy- 
sician. He had an patient among this class of women 
where the poor victim was now a prisoner. One morning 
as he started on his calls, — if I ever believed in special 
providences, I should say the Divine Spirit prompted him to 
invite Mr. Forrest to go with him. 

“ ‘ Come,’ he said, ‘ I must make a professional call. Go 
with me, and we can talk as we go.’ 

“ Thus invited, he went. And this is the substance of Mr. 
Smiley’s first specification under his second charge. But 
more is to come. 

“As they passed through the hall, Mr. Forrest caught sight 
of a face that was familiar from photographs he had seen. 
Having a singular memory for faces, he was sure he was not 
mistaken. He looked again ; and, astonished though he was, 
he felt sure of the identity. As the woman passed, he said, 
looking her full in the face, — 

“ ‘ Good-morning, Mary.’ 

■ “ Mr. Smiley started as if some one had struck him, but 

was perfectly still. 


192 


BLUFFTON. 


“ She, not being willing to be recognized in a place like 
this, looked on him calmly as she could, and said, — 

“ ‘ My name is not Mary. Why do you speak to me ? I 
do not know you.’ 

“ ‘ Yet your name is Mary,’ said he ; and she passed on. 

“ When the medical call was over, and they were return- 
ing through the hall again, Mr. Forrest noticed that the par- 
lor door was open ; and, as he glanced in, the same w’oman 
stood by the mantel, and beckoned to him. Excusing him- 
self from the doctor, he went in, and stood before her. 

“‘Why did you call me Mary? ’ said she. 

“ ‘ Because that is your name,’ he quietly replied. ‘ I have 
seen your photograph too often not to know you. Why are 
you here ? ’ 

“ She knew him also by pictures of him she had seen, 
though till now she was not ready to acknowledge it. 

“ ‘ Mr. Forrest,’ she said, and broke down, sobbing, ‘ I am 
lost.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps not,’ said he. ‘ Do you want to stay here ? ’ 

“ ‘ O God, no ! ’ she sobbed ; ‘ but where can I go ? what 
can I do ? ’ 

“ ‘ Sit down here calmly, and let us talk,’ said he. 

“When she had told him her whole story, she con- 
tinued, — 

“ ‘ But I can’t go back to my brother : he’ll not take me. 
The man I was to marry will turn away from me. I may as 
well stay here. Only don’t tell any one where I am,’ she 
desperately pleaded. 

“ ‘ But, since you do not want to stay here, it is worth while 


TOM SPEAKS. 


193 


to try what can be done. Go West with me. I will keep 
your secret till you are ready to speak. I will sound your 
brother, and find what he mil do. I will explain every thing 
to your lover : he is a man, and will do right.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps,’ she said, ‘ there is hope. I found myself here 
only yesterday. I am pure of any voluntary stain. I will 
let you try ; yes, you may try.’ 

“And so Mr. Forrest ordered a carriage, took her to a 
hotel, paid her bills, and has brought her West to my house, 
where she is now concealed, as the second specification 
charges. 

“ As to the third, he has been to Maple City to see her. 
He was in her company last Sunday. He tried to get her 
consent to speak with her friends ; but, timid and frightened, 
she would not yet give it. His promise, that, unlike some, 
he chooses to honor, has kept him silent, and made it pos- 
sible for his enemies to abuse a man whose shoes they are 
not fit to carry. Though, did she know now much depended 
on the words I have spoken, she would have been here her- 
self for the deliverance of her savior.” 

All eyes were now turned toward Mr. Forrest, who still 
did not look up ; but, as Mr. Winthrop proceeded, they fas- 
tened on him again. 

“ Only a word more is to be said. That word, I am gen- 
uinely sorry and pained to say, must be one of disgrace. 
But, mind you, the disgrace does not attach to my friend 
Mr. Forrest. It does, however, attach to him who is the 
underhand leader and instigator of this whole — not prose- 
cution, but — persecution. It only remains for me to add, 


194 


BLUFFTON. 


that this young lady, the victim of her brother’s avarice and 
lack of heart, — a brother who covers his selfish plans deep 
down under a sniffling piety, — this mysterious Maple City 
lady, now at my house and under my care, is the sister of 
your noble prosecutor, Mr. Richard Smiley.” 

A silence struck dumb with astonishment followed ; and 
then it burst into uproarious applause. Uncle Zeke flung 
his hat up to the ceiling, and shouted, — 

“ Hooray ! I knowed he was all right ! I knowed it ! In 
course I did ! ” 

Deacon Putney rushed forward, and grasped Mr. Forrest’s 
hand ; and he now was thronged by congratulations on every 
side. 

And even old Mrs. Buck and aunt Sally looked wise, 
and mutually remarked in a breath, — 

“ Of course ! anybody might ’a’ knowed such a nice man 
as Mr. Forrest was all right ; ” and they actually made them- 
selves think they had always been of the same opinion. 

But where was Mr. Smiley ? He had followed Mr. Win- 
throp’s narrative with breathless and passionate attention. 
He had seen the possibility of its conclusion, ^nd slirunk 
from it while his heart stood still, as if terror-struck in a tem- 
pest. And yet he had hoped it was about some one else ; 
and he did not dare to speak, or show his conflicting emo- 
tions, for that would be confession at least of a parallel 
story on his own part. So he sat in speechless horror as the 
tale proceeded ; and when the climax came, he saw, in one 
vivid flash of thought, as though his brain had been lighted 
by an electric blaze, his power and prestige gone. He was 


TOM SPEAKS. 


195 


unmasked. No more in city or church could he be the 
leader again ; and to live, and not lead, was to him worse 
than death. So, while the confusion raged about him, a 
worse chaos and struggle went on within. He was flushed 
and livid by turns ; and, as at last he clutched his nails into 
his palms in the effort at self-control, he suddenly fainted 
and fell. 

A physician who was present was hurriedly called ; and 
he had him taken up, and carried to the door. But when 
he got there, and felt for his pulse, it was only a flicker ; 
and even that soon ceased. The doctor said a blood-vessel 
had burst in his excitement. And Richard Smiley was no 


more. 


196 


BLUFFTON. 


XX. 

THE BROKEN RING. 

M r. FORREST cared little for his triumph, — little for 
the excited change in the feelings of the fickle pub- 
lic, that, by as much as it had degraded him, now exalted 
him in its enthusiastic reverence as a hero. It was little 
to him that the church, almost in a body, now came and 
begged him to stay with them. For, even had he not been 
condemned as heretic by a formal council, still he felt 
that in an orthodox church was not his proper field of 
work. He could not remain without contracting his range 
of study, and clipping the wings of his thought ; and these 
things he could not do, and maintain his self-respect. For 
to call it freedom of thought, where you were bound under 
penalty to come to certain foregone conclusions, now seemed 
to him a sad intellectual confusion in the use of words, 
even if you overlooked its reprehensible moral quality. 

He cared, I say, for none of these things ; for the reason 
that he saw inevitably before him the darkest sorrow of his 
life. It seemed to him worse than death : for death leaves 
tender regret and inspiring memories ; and also it leaves 
one the hope, at least, of meeting again those so rudely torn 


THE BROKEN RING. 


197 


from us here. But a separation like that which he foresaw 
was coming was bereft of all these consolations. It could 
leave behind it only useless, gnawing regrets ; and, should 
they meet in any future, still he would have no claim based 
on any past possession. 

So keenly did he feel this, that he could not nerve him- 
self up to face the meeting and the parting. He must post- 
pone it, and collect himself after his excitement. So, send- 
ing Madge a note appointing a meeting for the following 
Sunday evening, and excusing himself till then, he deter- 
mined to return with Tom to Maple City. 

“I can’t bear even to see my friends now,” said he. 
“ They will talk to me kindly, but about things of no con- 
cern to-day, A husband waiting for the funeral of his wife 
doesn’t care to discuss the market rates.” 

And so he took himself away. The two days passed 
quickly, as do the last hours to the criminal awaiting the 
clock-stroke that knells his execution. Here at Maple City, 
he walked up and down the levee as the steamer came and 
went, and thought over the crowded events of this one year. 
His life seemed short, compared with its hurried events. 

“ How many tragedies,” thought he, “ are beginning, pro- 
gressing, or ending, in the midst of these apparently thought- 
less passengers, as they come and go ! ” 

He went over the past, step by step, and lived it all 
again. He and Tom, two happy, careless young men, stood 
on the levee once more. They jested together about the 
little lady that tripped so heart-free uj) the plank ; and now 
he and that lady dared not look each other in the face, for 


198 


BLUFFTON. 


the great agony that was tugging at both their hearts. A 
little year ago, and he stood on the forward deck, and 
sailed out into the fairy world of enchantment, and in that 
world he had found the princess of his soul ; but the dragon 
of old theologic superstition held her in the midst of a magic 
circle from which she could escape only over her father’s 
heart ; and this her very goodness forbade. His new-found 
friend, Mrs. Grey, was gone. He must clasp the honest old 
hand of uncle Zeke, and try to say good-by. His life-work 
was blasted. The past had turned to ashes ; and the future 
as yet was a desolate wilderness, tlurough which he could 
not even catch the glimpse of a path. 

And now, as he turned away, his soul was wrung with 
questionings. 

In such a mood as this, — for the past year haunted him, 
— he started out in the evening for a lonely walk. He had 
talked himself tired with Tom ; and for, a little, before he 
went to bed, he must be alone. He strolled beyond the 
edge of the town, and on the bank of the river. The sky 
was full of stars, and their far-off silence was as near to sym- 
pathy as any thing he could bear. And now the flood swept 
over him. Moods changed so rapidly that he seemed to 
possess several selves; and now and then he would lose 
himself in the fancy that he was listening to a raging contest 
in which he had no concern except to hear ; and then he 
would wake, and come to himself with a new and added pang 
of sorrow. 

“ Oh, I’ve been a fool ! ” he cried. “ Why need I seek to 
be wiser than my fathers ? I’ve tasted the spring of knowl- 


THE BROKEN RING. 


199 


edge, and its waters have madness in them. Thousands 
have lived and died happy in the old faith. Why need I 
undermine the house in which I might have sheltered and 
delighted in my love ? ” 

And then he would think again, — 

“ The first intellectual and religious houses of the race were 
caves and huts. And, as the first steps of upward progress 
were made, doubtless the same questions came then from 
hearts with the same world-old agony. It is always a crime 
to tear down the old, even for the sake of a better. Our 
present houses, perchance, are but primeval huts to those 
which shall give palatial religious shelter to the men who 
shall look upon us as, in comparison, superstitious and bar- 
barous. The destructive builders of the past are the ones 
we worship, though their ages cast them out. And some 
one must do the work of to-day for the future. But need 
/ do it? Oh that I might escape ! But I have heard the 
voice of God ; and now ze/<pe is me if I preach not his better 
gospel. And, O Madge ! woe is me if I do ! ” 

On Saturday the two friends again walked together down 
to the boat. 

“Mark,” said Tom, as arm in arm they strolled slowly 
down the street, “ I haven’t felt like speaking to Miss Smiley 
after all that has occurred : how do you find her? ” 

“ As badly as her brother treated her, still, you know, the 
ties of blood are strong, and he was the last of her family. 
The manner, also, of his taking-off, was a great shock to her. 
Still I can’t but think she feels a sense of relief. He wasn’t 
one tliat anybody could love overmuch.” 


200 


ELUFFTON. 


“ And since he has never married, and left no will, she, 
as next heir, comes now into his property as well as her 
o^vn.” 

“Yes; and, best of all, the odious dependence on him, 
created by her father’s will, is of course broken now, and 
she is free.” 

“But what does she say, Mark, about my breaking the 
silence of her secret? ” 

“Of course her delicacy would have had it kept; but, 
under the circumstances, she blesses you for it. She up- 
braided me most severely for not letting her know how my 
relations to her were complicating my own affairs. I think 
she’d have appeared at the council, and told her own story, 
rather than have had me suffer by her silence.” 

“ But now, Mark, it’s almost boat-time, and I must ask 
you a word or two about Miss Hartley.” 

“O Tom ! I can hardly speak on that subject now. She’s 
lost to me forever, I fear. Fear? I know it, Tom. I wish I, 
too, had fallen beside Smiley. ‘ Wherefore is light given to 
him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul? ’ I’ve 
nothing left to live for.” 

“ Why don’t she leave the old curmudgeon of a judge, 
Mark ? What’s the use of spoiling a living happiness for a 
dying superstition ? ” 

“ Don’t speak that way, Tom, if you love me. You don’t 
know the judge, or Madge either. We three are simply the 
fated personages in an inevitable tragedy. In his circum- 
stances, the judge could be no other than he is. And of his 
kind he’s a noble specimen, a true man. And, beside, he’s 


THE BROKEN RING. 


201 


too old to change. The brain gets stiff, as the joints do, 
with age. And, in my circumstances, I can be no other 
without deliberate surrender of my manhood ; and I won’t 
offer Madge a shell with only a lie wrapped up in it. And 
as for Madge herself, dear, sweet girl, I couldn’t change her 
without spoiling her high womanhood. If she could trample 
on her father’s heart, then by and by she might on mine. 
No, Tom, it’s tragedy. Just as in the old Greek plays the 
characters are inmeshed by the fates in circumstances where 
death is the only way out, so it is now. What the gods 
mean by it all, perhaps we’ll know some day ; but I can’t 
make it out now.” 

“ Well, Mark, old fellow, I wish I could help you ; but it’s 
one of those battles where only one can fight.” 

Mfeantime Madge also was struggling alone with her des- 
tiny. Mark had been condemned by the council ; but she 
did not know enough of the technical points in dispute fully 
to appreciate what his awful heresy was. But her heart rose 
up in admiration of his manliness and sincerity. And par- 
ticularly did her heart throb with a new and deeper love at 
the revelation of his tenderness toward the fallen, and his 
faithfulness to his delicate sense of honor at whatever cost. 
In her soul she bowed down before the image of his 
nobility, and worshipped, as one does homage to the figure 
of some grand heroism in history or romance. 

But then, she was one of those whose roots strike deeply 
into the reverence and sentiment of the past. All she had 
ever known or thought of God, of duty, of sanctities, of 
religion in the present, or hope for the future, were linked 


202 


BLUFFTON. 


indissolubly with her father’s thought and the training of her 
home. As she had conceived no other thought, to give up 
that seemed bald, blank atheism, the blotting all high, sweet 
spiritualities out of the universe. She knew Mark must 
see something; but to her it was all chaos and darkness. 
When she thought of these things as gone, her soul seemed 
to wander up and down a desert world, like the Wandering 
Jew, driven on and on ; or like the dove from the ark, seeing 
no place of rest, but only a dreary waste of waters that had 
buried every sweet and beautiful and green thing. All her 
childhood memories plead with her. The past rebuked her 
as an impious traitor. The future threatened ; for, having 
vividly in her mind the whole evangelical scheme of things, 
her guardian angel seemed to weep for her possible defec- 
tion. And in her dreams she found herself standing outside 
the fast-shut gate of the celestial city into which she had 
just seen father and mother and sisters enter ; and, as weep- 
ing she turned hopelessly away, she saw Mark, with haggard 
look and downcast eyes, ready to plead with her for an 
impossible forgiveness for having led her astray. And, as 
she waked, she would think that even outside with him was 
better than any heaven from which his honesty could cast 
him out. But then her conscience stood up stoutly in her 
soul ; and all her moral, tender, loving nature revolted at the 
thought of trampling on her father’s heart for the sake of 
gratifying a selfish love. 

“ No,” she cried, “ I can not, Avill not. It may kill me, it 
will kill me ; but I will not be ignoble ! If I cannot be a 
true daughter, I cannot be a true wife. If I am untrue here, 


THE BROKEN RING. 


203 


I shall only be giving Mark, not what he seeks, a whole, 
true woman, but one whose conscience has been violated, 
the tone of whose life has been lowered.” 

Such, then, were the two hearts that fate had driven 
together in the passionate collision of a hopeless love. 
They could only touch hands, and learn how sweet it was to 
look in each other’s eyes, and then find growing up between 
them the stern, hard, cold face of Duty, and see her fixed 
finger pointing them each a separate way. 

^ Their meeting on Sunday evening was a passionate one ; 
for, while Mark held her convulsively to his heart, their 
tears did eloquent duty for words. They needed only brief 
speech for mutual understanding. The electric wires of 
love and grief carry subtle messages, and need not the 
clumsy medium of language. 

“ Madge,” at last he said, “ I must leave Bluffton to- 
morrow. I cannot endure it here. Let us take one more 
walk before I go.” 

And, as they stepped out into the night, they seemed 
instinctively to feel that there was only one place to which 
they could go, and that the now sacred spot that had such 
sweet, and was to have such bitter, memories. They sat 
down again beneath the old chestnut-tree ; while the moon 
once more came up large and round and yellow in the 
dense atmosphere that belted the horizon, and looked across 
the shimmering river full into their saddened faces. 

“ Madge,” said he, as he caressed a loosened lock of 
hair upon her forehead, “ do- you loye me stiU, as you did 
when we sat here before ? ” 


204 


BLUFFTON. 


“ Don’t break my heart with a question like that. I’ve 
only learned to love you more and more.” 

“ And yet you cannot follow me,” said he with a slight 
tinge of reproach in his tone. 

“ Mark, if you loved me,” she cried almost fiercely, “ you 
would not make it harder for me than it is. It is already 
more than I can bear.” 

“ But, Madge, I’ve only done my duty.” 

“ Oh, if you could only have let these awful things alone ! 
It cannot be God that has led you to what is killing me.” 

“Can you not follow me even yet, since you do love 
me?” 

“ Oh, I can’t, I can’t ! I dare not ! Father has not 
spoken much of late ; but oh, he looks at me so ! His 
white face would haunt me forever, could I desert him 
now.” 

“ But, Madge ” — 

“ Mark ! ” she broke in hurriedly and abruptly, “ do you 
know what you ask of me? Would you have me at the 
price of making me unworthy of you ? One falsity in life 
would taint me all through. I can’t, I can’t ! ” she sobbed : 
“ do not tempt me, or I shall fall.” 

“ But at the worst, Madge, may I not think of it as a tem- 
porary separation? Years of waiting will be nothing, if I 
may hope.” 

The struggle now in Madge’s soul was fearful. This to 
her was not a new suggestion. She had battled with it in 
the long days, and it had haunted her in her dreams. Long 
before this she thought she had settled it, that she must not 


THE BROKEN RING. 


205 


consent even to this. Her father was hale and strong, and 
would live for years. Meantime she should change, and 
Mark would change. Men loved, she said to herself, then 
went away, and learned to love again. So it might be with 
him. He would go away, and find another field of activity. 
Others would smile upon and flatter him. Meanwhile she 
would be losing her freshness as she lived on at home, and 
waited on her father’s declining years. Her delicate sensi- 
tiveness made her feel she would be doing him a wrong to 
keep him tied to a promise that anyway must wait for years, 
and that he might come to wish himself freed from. She 
had said to herself, — 

“ True love will live without promises ; and, though it 
break my heart, I must be true to his real interests, even if I 
appear cruel. I do not love him as I ought, if I cannot 
take up this cross.” 

So as he repeated his question, — 

“ May I hope, Madge ? ” she said slowly, and with a sort 
of desperate firmness, — 

“ Yes, Mark, we will both hope — for the best ; for heaven 
if not for earth. But here and now we must separate and be 
free. It is better so ; ” and she bit her lips, and crowded 
back the tears. 

“ Madge,” he said, rising to his feet, “ I had hoped for 
more than this.” 

“ Mark,” said she, “ the years will be many before I am 
free. I shall change. You will change. I cannot wrong 
you by holding to you a pledge you may wish to break.” 

“ But I can never love any one else,” pleaded he. 


206 


BLUFFTON. 


“The years will tell.” 

“You will not, then?” 

“ Mark, not will not : I can not ; I ought not.” 

“Madge, I cannot think this kind; and it will leave a 
bitter memory in my heart. I must think you have some 
motive I do not know.” And out of the strong passion of 
his love, and his bitter hopelessness, he uttered cruel words, 
that gave him many an after-pang : “ I have been told that 
women were fickle, but I thought it not of you.” 

She did not reply; for she could not. She dared not 
trust herself. She would have broken down weeping like a 
child in his arms. “I have done right,” she thought. 
“The bond must be snapped at any cost.” 

She now rose, and the two stood a silent moment in the 
moonlight. At last she held out her hand, — that hand that 
had brought him to her feet, and was now pushing him away. 
He caught it, kissed it, and wet it with his tears. 

Then she slowly, without trusting herself to look toward 
him again, began to move away. 

“But Miss Hartley,” — the distant address stung her, — 
“ I must at least see you to your gate.” 

“ No, please,” she faltered. “It is only a little way ; and 
the evening is light. I cannot part with you there.” 

He flung himself upon the ground, and buried his face in 
his hands. When he again looked up, he was alone with the 
pitiless stars. 

As that night, after long tossing, at last he lay in a troubled 
sleep, he dreamed all over the sad tragedy of Jean Ingelow’s 
“ Divided,” — a poem he had long ago committed to mem- 


THE BROKEN RING. 20/ 

ory; and ever and ever through his brain there sounded 
the sad refrain, — 

“No backward path ; ah I no returning : 

No second crossing that ripple’s flow : 

‘ Come to me now, for the west is burning ; 

Come ere it darkens 1 ’ Ah, no I ah, no 1 

“ Then cries of pain, and arms outreaching — 

• The beck grows wider and swift and deep : 

Passionate words as of one beseeching — 

The loud beck drowns them : we walk, and weep.” 


208 


BLUFFTON. 


XXI. 


RECONSIDERATION. 


HE very next day saw Mr. Forrest’s hurried good-by 



-i- to Bluffton. He could not bear even to see his 
friends. He could not leave, however, without one last 
word with uncle Zeke, and one more grip of his honest 


hand. 


“ It’s mighty rough on me, Mr. Forrest ; but it’s jest what 
I expected,” said he. “ That ar’ Sunday momin’ here on 
the hill, I told ye you’s too likely a feller to be a minister ; 
and ye be, fur sich ornery critters.” 

“ Well, uncle. I’ve done my duty, and paid the price for 
it. At least I’ll take away with me my self-respect.” 

“ ’Deed ye will, Mr. Forrest. An’ ye’ll take away, beside, 
the lovin’ gratitude o’ many a poor man an’ woman you’ve 
helped. An’ ye’ll take along the daylight o’ lots on us that’s 
long sot in darkness for the want o’ a little sense in reli- 
gion.” 

And, as they parted, uncle Zeke grasped his hand, and 
almost crushed it in the warmth of his emotion, while he 
turned his head away, and pretended to be blowing his 
nose ; though, in reality, he was dashing away the moisture 
from his eyes, that he was ashamed to have his friend see. 


RECONSIDERATION. 


209 


He spent one hurried day with Tom ; for in his present 
mood of mind he did not wish to stay long, even in the 
region of Blulfton, — a region now so thronged with unpleas- 
ant memories. There being no longer any reason for Miss 
Smiley’s remaining at Maple City, she was preparing to put 
her brother’s affairs into the hands of an attorney for settle- 
ment, intending herself to return to her friends at the East. 
Her parting with Mr. Forrest was such an one as only their 
strange relations could have made possible. 

“I shall always think of you as my savior,” said she. 
“ It makes me shudder with horror,” — and she covered her 
face with her hands, as though shutting out some fearful 
picture, — “ to think of what the future would have befen to 
me, but for you.” 

“ But I was only human,” he replied. “ Any one, not a 
brute, would save a sparrow from the hawk.” 

“ Nevertheless,” she replied, “ it was you who saved me. 
I can never forget that. I shall worship you always as my 
saint.” 

Mr. Forrest had some friends in a northern city on the 
lake ; and he determined to spend a few days there, while 
making up his mind what future course to pursue. Drop- 
ping into one of the public reading-rooms one morning, he 
met two prominent doctors of divinity, belonging to hvo dif- 
ferent but representative branches of the great orthodox 
body. He had met them before, on some public occasion, 
and so had sufficient acquaintance to form the basis of a 
conversation. The daily papers — those innumerable inky 
tongues of the goddess Rumor — had caught the echoes of 


210 


BLUFFTON, 


Bluffton affairs, so that they knew something of what Mr. 
Forrest had gone through. They were chatting together in 
one corner of the room as he entered. Rising, and shaking 
him cordially by the hand, and one of them drawing a third 
chair into the corner, they all tliree sat down together. 

“ So they’ve been having you on the theological gridiron, 
have they?” remarked, rather than inquired, the Rev. Dr. 
Thornes. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Forrest; “and they’ve fried me so 
well, that I’m completely done — with orthodoxy.” 

“And I think it’s a perfect outrage,” continued Dr. 
Thornes, “that there should always be just enough old 
fogies from the middle ages, in every conference, to kill off 
any young man that’s bright enough to have a new idea. 
If they can have their own way, they’ll condemn the Church 
to perpetual mediocrity. They seem to think stupidity and 
piety are synonymous.” 

“ You never said a truer word. Dr. Thornes, in your life,” 
said Dr. Hay. “I don’t know of an exceptionally bright 
man anywhere, who isn’t spotted by somebody as a heretic. 
Nowadays, that only means that he’s got, and dares to utter, 
a new idea.” 

“And,” said Dr. Thornes, “if no new ideas are to be 
allowed, I’d hke to have somebody explain to me how the 
world is ever to grow any. These theological purists, if they 
were gardeners, would be cutting off, in the spring, every 
new leaf and twig, as innovations ; and seeing to it that the 
tree staid where it was last year.” 

“ Yes ; but,” said Mr. Forrest, “ after all my painful and 


RECONSIDERATION. 


2II 


forced attention to the matter, I am inclined to think they 
are right. Being acquainted with your reputation as what 
has come, curiously enough, to be called Liberal Orthodox, 
I am not at all surprised at your opinions. But I must differ 
with you.” 

“ And 1 must differ with you," said Dr. Hay. “ Now, in 
your own case, I think you have made a decided mistake. 
When, as I see by the morning paper, your people gathered 
about you, and urged you to remain, I think you ought to 
have done it. You had a good opportunity to help us fight 
out .this battle.” 

“ But,” replied Mr. Forrest, “ I have come to feel that I 
have no right to fight the battle in any such Trojan-horse 
style. Strategy and deception are counted fair in war ; but 
it seems questionable to me, to fight the battles of truth and 
God in underhand and deceptive ways.” 

“I do not quite admit your point,” said Dr. Thornes. 
“ Has a man no rights in the church in which he was 
born?” 

“ Yes,” answered Mr. Forrest, — “ the right either to re- 
main loyal to it, or to leave it.” 

“ But may he not remain in it and reform it? ” 

“ I think not,” said he, “ if I understand what you mean 
by reform, — that is, change it to something else. If a man 
is in a Shakspeare Club, and concludes that he would pre- 
fer a Philosophical Society, the simple and honest way would 
be to leave the first, and organize the second, not undertake 
to break up the club while still claiming to be loyal to it.” 

“But doctrines change,” said Dr. Hay, “just as modern 


212 


BLUFFTON. 


Italian has grown out of the Latin. Must one leave his 
country on that account? ” 

“No,” said Mr. Forrest; “but I wouldn’t confuse things 
that differ. You don’t go on claiming that modem Italian is 
just the genuine old Latin. You call it what it is, and let 
people take their choice.” 

“ But there are such stupid prejudices on the part of the 
common people, that they will not hear the whole truth. 
They have to be led along like children, as they are able.” 

“ But,” returned Mr. Forrest, “ I think that — if you will 
pardon me for saying it — the cowardice of the pulpit is 
responsible for much of the prejudice ; at least, for its con- 
tinuance.” 

“ And yet,” said Dr. Thornes, “ the minister must preach 
what people will hear, if he is going to preach at all. If he 
gets branded as heretical, then he loses all his influence, and 
his power is gone. If he is prudent, and gives out his new 
views as they will bear it, then he can gradually lead them 
into broader ways.” 

“ I have looked all these arguments over ; and you are 
not the first ones that have urged me to act in accordance 
with them. But I cannot see my way.” 

“But consider the case of Mr. Blank, now holding his 
services in our great hall. He’s doing an immense good. 
Occupying as he does a middle position, he draws about 
him the conservative liberals and the liberal orthodox, and 
holds the throngs of both in his hands.” 

“ I know it all, and have thought of it all,” Mr. Forrest 
replied. “ And if one, in all honesty and sincerity, can hold 


RECONSIDERATION. 


213 


such a position, he will appeal to the largest numbers in 
these transition times. For, let a man be pronounced and 
clear on either side, and of course he loses those on the 
other. The times are hazy ; and the hazy man, Mr. Facing- 
both-ways, will see the biggest houses, for he has the largest 
constituency. An honest Facing-both-ways may do much 
temporary good. But they are not the builders : they raise 
only temporary huts till the house gets framed and boarded 
in.” 

“If they can hold the position honestly, you said,” 
broke in Dr. Hay : “ don’t you think they are honest? ” 

“ Some of them, undoubtedly. But it’s a strain on any 
man’s conscience. Now, this Mr. Blank you spoke of said 
only the other day to a friend of mine who was visiting the 
city, ‘Mr. Winthrop, what I think and believe in my study is 
one thing ; and what I think it best, as I consider the con- 
dition of my people, to give them as food, and to build them 
up in the Christian life, that is another thing.’ What do you 
call that?” 

“ I’m too much astonished to call it any thing,” said Dr. 
Hay. 

“ But I call it the worst kind of Jesuitry,” said Mr. For- 
rest ; “ lying for the glory of God, and to build up his king- 
dom of truth. And yet pardon me for saying that it seems 
to me only the logical carrying-out of your own principle. 
Were you not just urging me to do the same? ” 

“ I was not looking at it in that light,” said Dr. Thornes. 

“ Now, let me give you my opinion just a little at length,” 
said Mr. Forrest. “ Catholicism, for example, is a fixed and 


214 


BLUFFTON. 


definite system. To change it is, of course, to make some- 
thing else out of it, to destroy it. The something else may 
be better ; but it certainly isn’t the same. To change it all 
over, then, and still call it Roman Catholic, would be an 
absurdity as well as a falsehood. Therefore it seems to me 
that Pius IX. was clear-headed and logical when, in his last 
encyclical, he anathematized those who said the Church 
ought to progress, and conform to modem civilization. 

“ And the same is tme of orthodoxy in any form. It 
claims to be based on a clear, explicit, and finished scheme 
of divine revelation. Now, the world may change in its 
relations toward an infallible revelation ; but to say that 
it can change, either to retrograde or advance, is simply 
confusion of thought, or misuse of language. If, then, 
orthodoxy ever was orthodoxy, — the true doctrine, — then 
it must remain so forever. There can’t be any progress in 
the facts of the multiplication-table. But if you admit that 
orthodoxy has changed, or can change in any degree, then 
it isn’t orthodoxy any longer: it admits no past mistake. 
If there was a past mistake, then there is no certainty but 
there may be one now. You’re all afloat. Instead of 
orthodoxy, it is rationalism, or the application of reason to 
all the problems involved.” 

“But may not orthodoxy grow like a tree?” asked Dr. 
Hay. 

“ No, I think not,” replied Mr. Forrest. “ If last year an 
infallible revelation had fixed the number of boughs and 
leaves for a maple, it would have no right to vary. And I 
cannot help feeling that this whole movement called Liberal 


. RECONSIDERATION. 


215 


Orthodoxy is a misnomer, a mongrel, that has no right to 
exist. If it is liberal, it cannot be orthodox ; and, if it is 
orthodox, it has no right to be liberal. It is very like that 
often-mentioned but rather mythical creature, the 'white 
blackbird. It seems to me to be a logical vagrant, without 
the slightest ‘visible means of support.’ If one believes 
in the Garden of Eden and the fall of man, then, of course, 
the incarnation, the atonement, heaven and hell, logically 
follow. It is a linked chain ; it is a complete logical arch. 
But Liberal Orthodoxy knocks the keystone out, and thinks 
the rest will stand. It snaps out one link, and thinks the 
chain will still hold the clear-headed thinkers of the world. 
It knocks the foundations out from under its house, and 
then proceeds calmly up stairs and sits down as if nothing 
had happened. Such feats are only possible in castles in 
the air. But men will knock their brains out against logical 
impossibilities, and still go on unconscious of any accident. 

“ I know I am preaching you a long sermon ; but just 
think of it. Here are men in every direction, who think 
they are orthodox, who do not believe in any fall. They 
know too much of modem science to still believe the tradi- 
tions about an apple’s bringing death and total depravity into 
the world. And yet, if there wasn’t any fall, there isn’t 
the slightest need of any incarnation or atonement ; and the 
whole scheme of orthodoxy tumbles like a card house.” 

“ But,” inquired Dr. Hay, “ must the whole orthodox 
body be deprived of the light of all later knowledge, just 
because it is orthodox?” 

“ If it will stay orthodox, yes ; but if it chooses to accept 


2i6 


BLUFFTON. 


modem knowledge, and give up this and that doctrine, then 
let it be honest enough to own that it is not orthodox. 
Now, there’s a great excitement just now over the question 
of hell. The moral sense of civilization, having got too 
clear-sighted and true to be able any longer to think God is 
a devil, of course has to give up hell. But why can’t men 
see that they can’t give up hell, and still keep all the rest? 
If man is under natural moral laws of invariable justice and 
inevitable execution in this and all worlds, so that he goes 
up or down as he gets sick or well, according to character 
and conduct, then, of course, a sacrificial atonement by a 
dying God is absurd. Redemption, atonement, and all such 
ideas, are outgrown. 

“And of course it also becomes absurd to hold to the 
divine inspiration of a book that plainly teaches doctrines 
that are given up. However perpetual some of its moral 
precepts, it is henceforth only a human book, a record of a 
past phase of the world’s religious life.” 

“ But,” remarked Dr. Thornes, “ I think we’d better hold 
to the Bible till the world gets a better book.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Forrest, “ by all means. But 
let’s tell the truth about it at the same time. Give it to men 
for what it is, not what it is not. It’s curious how men hold 
the Bible.” 

“ \\Tiy, what do you mean ? ” said the doctor again. 

“ I mean this : its infallibility really means to them the 
infallibility of the interpretation put upon it by their sect. 
So you’ve really got as many Bibles as you have sects. And 
then they hold tenaciously to hosts of things the Bible does 


RECONSIDERATION. 


217 


not enjoin, or even forbids, as the keeping of Sunday ; and 
at the same time universally practise what it everywhere con- 
demns, as usury for example. Where would be the support 
of the churches if the members never took interest on their 
money?” 

“But,” said Dr. Hay, “not every thing in the Bible is 
intended to be perpetual. Some of it is local and tem- 
porary.” 

“There you have it again,” said Mr. Forrest. “That’s 
rationalism pure and simple. If reason picks and chooses, 
then reason decides.” 

“Well, we differ on these points,” said Doctor Hay ; “but 
now tell us where you propose to go. If you can’t stay in 
Liberal Orthodoxy, will you go to the Unitarians? ” 

“ I hardly know as yet.” 

“ He’d find them, in many cases, more bigoted than we 
are,” said Dr. Thornes. “I know many a Liberal Orthodox 
who would lift the hair of some of the old-line Unitarians 
like ‘quills upon the fretful porcupine.’ There’s so much 
bigotry in the world, that you can’t keep it all in any one 
denomination.” 

“But that isn’t my chief objection,” said Mr. Forrest. 

“What, then?” 

“ Why, this : Textual Unitarianism or Universalism, that 
builds itself on verses of Scripture, and claims to be a fixed 
system, however broad, I can have nothing to do with.” 

“How broad must a church be, to suit you?” inquired 
Dr. Hay. 

“ Just the width of the universe of God. I don’t expect 


2I8 


BLUFFTON. 


to occupy it all at once. But, so far as I am able, I claim 
the right — for all of any man — to go wherever God has 
been before me.” 

“ What’s your Bible, then? ” 

“ All ascertained truth, however and wherever found.” 

“You say all ascertained truth. Don’t you believe in 
faith?” 

“ Yes, as faith ; but not as knowledge. I believe in not 
abusing the dictionary. I believe a lot of things I do not 
know : so I call those things beliefs. I am not aware that 
I know any thing that I don’t know. I don’t know much ; 
but I keep the word knowledge for that little.” 

“You have a short creed, then.” 

“ The universe is large. The brain is small. I am willing 
to stand on what little I know, and work out from that. I 
value less than I used to my theological possessions ‘in 
Spain.’ Eternity is long : I can wait.’ 

When he had gone out, the Rev. Dr. Thornes and the 
Rev. Dr. Hay looked at each other, and one nodded while 
the other said, — 

“ A clear-headed fellow. Yes ; but he carries things a 
little too far. It won’t do. You can’t get the people up to 
it. He goes too far.” 


THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE, 


219 


XXII. 

THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE. 

T hree years had now passed away. Miss Hartley 
had devoted herself untiringly to her father’s comfort 
and happiness. She had anticipated all his wants, and done 
her best to make his home sunny and bright. He had for 
her a tender, almost a doting love. And thus, though he 
had rejoiced at her separation from Mr. Forrest, as an 
escape from a threatened peril to her soul, he still could 
not avoid a constantly questioning anxiety as to whether she 
yet carried any lasting wound. So, as these three years 
passed, he watched her. He was too proud to show curios- 
ity, and too respectful toward her right of silent reserve 
to ask questions. But though there never fell from her lips, 
in his hearing, one word of regret or complaint, he could 
not help noticing that the old spontaneity of her gladness 
was gone. It was no change of feature, but only a paling 
of the light that shone behind the features. Her bird-song 
was hushed, or tuned to a minor key. She did and said 
the same things as ever; but, instead of bubbling like a 
spring, her life seemed moved by the machine-pressure of 
duty. He noticed that in the mornings, as the months went 


220 


BLUFFTON. 


by, something of the old freshness was out of her face. A 
dark-colored line grew beneath her eyes, like a pen-stroke 
under a word, to emphasize her sadness. Sometimes, when 
he came upon her suddenly, he would find her standing 
with a far-away, absent look on her face ; or she would 
quickly dash away a tear, and start up with a forced smile. 
Her friends noticed that she cared less for their society, 
and was less forward in the season’s entertainments. And 
now and then Jane Ann Rawson would remark to her 
mother, — 

“ I think it’s a bumin’ shame ! Madge Hartley’s jest 
a-dyin’ by inches for Mr. Forrest. Anybody ’t ’s got half an 
eye can see it. ’F that old sour-face of a judge ’d only 
minded his own business ! ” 

“ Yis,” said aunt Sally, who, now that he was gone, only 
remembered Mr. Forrest’s good qualities, while the present 
angularities of the judge were easily seen : “ sich a nice man 
as he was ! He was too good for any of the tribe o’ sich 
a sharp-cornered old hard-head as he is.” 

So all the old ladies who used to say “ Margaret Hartley 
was reskin’ her immortal soul for a carnal affection,” now 
bestowed all their useless sympathy on the separated lovers 
when it was too late. They were good-natured old souls, 
only lacking any rational stability. They were blown about 
by the veering gusts of their passionate whims, as paper 
kites are whiffled around by every current of air. 

Margaret kept up bravely so long as she was with others, 
or any demand was made upon her. But in the night her 
struggles came, and she fought \vith the memories of the 


THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE. 


221 


past. After she had locked herself in her chamber, she 
would sit by the hour like a statue at her window, where she 
could see what was once his window, from which used, in 
those glad young mornings, to come across the way his 
manly greeting. Then, from her side-window, she could 
see in the shadow, the top of the old chestnut, reaching 
above the crown of the hill, where they met and parted. 
She would look, and look ; and then clasp her hands ovei 
her eyes, as if to shut out what she could bear no longer to 
see. Sitting thus, she burst out at last, as she had done 
many, times before, — 

“ Oh, I was cruel that night ! and yet I couldn’t help it. 
It was not I. Fate spoke through my lips words that I 
hated. And he — he must have known it ! He can’t be so 
blind ! He must have known how I loved him. I can’t 
endure the thought that he went away with the feeling that 
/ was cruel. And yet it had to be so. Something is cruel, 
to play such games with human hearts ! ” 

Then she would sit, and go over all that long year. She 
felt again the sensation of guilty, glad surprise at having 
heard those words spoken to her supposed unconsciousness 
after her fall. Again she looked up with pride, as he spoke 
his brave, manly words from the pulpit ; and she remem- 
bered how she felt they were her words, for he was hers. 
She lived over once more the afternoon in which he had 
read his verses; and she recalled how, while she shrunk 
from having him avow himself just then, still she had exulted 
in seeing his heart at her feet. Her whole life now seemed 
divided only into two parts. She had not lived at all till she 


222 


BLUFFTON. 


met him. Then there had been one bright year; and all 
since then was a wilderness. 

She knelt down to pray, as she had always done since her 
unconscious childhood at her mother’s knee. 

“ O God ! ” she cried, “ must it have been ? Is there 
no pity in heaven for broken love on earth? Canst thou 
not help me even now? But” — springing to her feet, as 
the thought flashed over her — “it was religion that took 
him from me ! How can I hope for help from the God that 
tore us apart ? ” 

And then her heart would stand up, and cry out that it 
could be no true religion that would so harden and cripple 
the life. Thus, from such experiences, were bom many 
sceptic questionings as to the principles of her father’s faith. 
She came to ask herself often as to whether Mark was not 
right. 

Then she would get books, and read and think and study. 
Thus, as the years went by, her outlook grew broader. And, 
though she had no hope of ever seeing Mr. Forrest again, 
she was gradually getting nearer and nearer to a possibility 
of understanding and sympathizing with his thought. 

And now at last her father fell sick. It was a long and 
wasting fever. Night and day she directed all things, and 
watched him. He was too old, and his vigor too much ex- 
hausted, to resist the attack. When the fresh sod was above 
him where he slept on the hillside above the everlasting flow 
of the river, Margaret herself was sick. The physician told 
her she had no organic disease that his medicine could 
reach : she was only worn ; needed to throw off her bur- 


THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE. 22$ 

dens, and rest. There was nothing to keep her. Her sister 
Sue had been a year married to Mr. Snyder, and the 
younger sister could stay with her. More, then, because 
there was no reason for doing any thing else in particular, 
than that she either cared for or expected any thing from 
the change, it was decided that she should visit California, 
and spend some months at the house of an old aforetime 
Eastern friend of her father’s. 

For two reasons I shall not describe the journey. It is 
already familiar in many books of travel ; and, further, we 
are concerned at present about her inner life. And, should 
I describe only what she saw, it would be hardly worth 
while ; for she was in no mood for sight-seeing, and cared 
but little for the natural wonders through which she passed. 
While, then, the engine puffed on day after day, whirling her 
across plains, around the craggy edges of the mountains, 
through tunnels, and past great new cities, toward a new 
future, she sat wrapped in her thought, and living in the 
past. 

She got out at a station in a beautiful valley : there was 
no city, and what could be called even a village only by 
courtesy. She glanced about her, and saw in the near dis- 
tance a section of a bay ; around her spread a level valley 
a mile in breadth from bay to foot-hill, springing from which 
was a chain of irregular mountains stretching parallel with 
the bay, and forming the other side of the valley. The val- 
ley itself was covered irregularly here and there with scat- 
tered clumps and groups of live-oaks, ranging from clusters 
of three to several hundreds. Instead of city or village 


224 


BLUFFTON. 


there, it was a place of villas or country-seats such as she 
had never seen at the East. Here lived the wealthy gold or 
silver kings of the great Occidental metropolis. Climbing 
up on the foot-hills, or rising above the oak tree-tops, she 
caught glimpses of fanciful towers ; and everywhere were 
the strange new vans of the windmills that she had never 
seen before. 

Her father’s old schoolmate met her at the station, and 
gave her so cordial a welcome that she felt at once as though 
she should be more at home here than in places that were 
thronged with the ghosts of painful associations. If she 
could only forget the past, here were all the external mate- 
rials for a paradise. But she was learning now, what so 
many in all ages had learned before her, that heaven and 
- hell are in the heart, or nowhere. 

It was a charming spot in the foot-hills to which she was 
driven. Perfect in natural beauty, the place had all the 
added charm that the landscape-gardener’s art could give it. 
Winding walks and drives; arbors; rustic bridges and 
mimic waterfalls ; trees of every latitude, in their native 
forms, or cut into all weird, fantastic, and beautiful shapes ; 
the wide, fresh stables, carriages, harnesses, horses ; foreign 
and domestic animals, wild and tame ; birds for sweet song, 
or beautiful plumes ; a spacious house with endless piazzas, 
with rustic chairs and hammocks ; odd gables, and fanciful 
turrets, and hanging windows, and angles that gave out- 
looks toward every fair thing that came in range of the eye, 
— such was now her home. 

But the irrevocable past haunted her. It made a part of 


THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE. 225 

every landscape. It shimmered with the ripples on the 
surface of the bay. ■ It sat by her side in her drives. It 
lurked in every clump of trees. It was a part of the lonely 
mountain summit. It was her waking dream; it was her 
night vision. 

One day they made a little party to visit the summit of 
the mountain. Back through the foot-hills to the very feet 
of the mountains themselves, there ran, or rather wound 
and twisted, a creek. It was low and clear in summer, 
but in the rainy season full and turbid. It was now in 
June; and it ran part-way full, and cool and clear. For 
four miles the road followed the windings of the creek. 
The road itself was arched with trees so completely, that for 
the whole way there was no sight of the blue sky, except 
through the irregular breaks in the green. Sun-flecked, and 
carpeted with leaf-shadows, the road was a fairy turnpike 
into a fairy world. Here and there, as they turned some 
new curve, the gray limestone cliff, wrought by the elements 
into some fantastic shape or almost human form, would 
spring into view through the green trees, fifty feet up the 
side of the gorge that on either hand hemmed in the narrow 
valley. 

At the end of the four miles was a green glade, a lovely, 
open spot, where were a hotel and a group of cottages, that 
had grown up about a mineral-spring. From this point 
they struck the direct ascent. This was by a fine turnpike 
that wound about the mountain, doubling on itself, and 
going two or three miles of turnings to bring the party to 
a point just above where they were half an hour before, and 


226 


BLUFFTON. 


SO near the road along which they had passed that they 
could fling a pebble over into it. 

^Vhen they reached the summit, the scene that burst 
upon them was magnificent beyond the painting power of 
words. Twenty miles northward the mountain-range ran, 
and terminated in the promontory on the bay-ward slope 
of which lay the metropolis of the Pacific, revealing its 
location by the cloud of smoke that hung above it. To the 
left, and sweeping every way to the far horizon, lay and 
shimmered and glistened the wide ocean, its surface heaving 
in the long and restless roll of the sea, but unbroken by a 
single ripple. A sail here and there suggested the far-off 
ports all round the world. Turning to the right, there was 
first the San Francisco Bay, an unbroken reach of water 
forty-five miles long, and from four to fifteen in breadth. 
On both sides of the bay, the valley stretched, dotted with 
native oak-woods and ranches, and homes and vineyards, 
and orchards of every fruit from pole to tropic, cut with 
creeks, and tlireaded with roads. At intervals, towns and 
cities sprang in sight on both sides the bay, and spires 
lifted white above the green of trees. In the distance was 
San Josh; and, sweeping round beyond the bay, another 
range of mountains, with old Monte del Diablo king above 
them all. 

“ Do you see that grove of oaks over yonder, and looking 
as if it were almost at our feet?” inquired Mr. Harrold, her 
host. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, ten miles away on an air-line, that is now your 
home.” 


THE REVENGE OF SLIGHTED LOVE. 


227 


“ Can it be possible? ” 

“ Not only possible, but a fact.” 

“ But this, it seems to me, must be as fine a view as earth 
can show. I never dreamed of any thing so grand.” 

“ Of course we Californians think it cannot be sur- 
passed.” 

“ And I am a Californian now, so far as that opinion is 
concerned. But what is that smoke just outside the Golden 
Gate there ? ” 

“ An incoming steamer from somewhere. Probably from 
Oregon or China; for, if it were on the Panama line, it 
would have passed by here.” 

And then a pang of remembrance shot through her heart 
as she thought of Mark, who, when last she heard of him, 
had sailed for some far-off port. And as she thought of 
meetings and partings, of the tragedies of human life, 
woven into its web by the flitting shuttles of swift-passing 
steamers and cars shooting to and fro over the earth, there 
ran through her brain the old, sad lines, — 

“ A ship comes up from under the world. 

‘ What do you bring, O ship ? ’ he cried. 

The answer came : ‘ ’Neath flag unfurled, 

Laughter and song, and — a fair dead bride. 

“ ‘ I bring fool’s jests, and — a heart’s deep woe ; 

News of a friend, and — a word of .despair ; 

I bring bright hopes from the world below. 

And a soul stornvtossed and worn with care. 

“ ‘ I bring a child whose mother is dead ; 

I bring a man deserting his wife, — 

Light and shadow, and poison and bread, 

' The tragical comedy of life. 


228 


BLUFFTON. 


“ ‘ Perhaps I bring a gift for you ; 

But do not covet it, do not shrink : 

You know not whether ’tis false or true, 

Or better or worse than you can think.’ ” 

She roused from the mood with a deep-drawn sigh. 

“ What is it ? ” said Mr. Harrold. “ In a day-dream ? ” 

“ I was thinking,” she replied, “ what freightage of good 
and evil, of hope and fear, those steamers carry. Who 
knows what of dread or joy that ship may be bringing to 
land?” 

“ Has it any thing for you, do you think? ” 

“ No. My ship has gone down, I fear. If not, I do not 
know on what sea it sails.” 

She answered gayly, but meant more than she cared her 
tone should betray. Could she have seen the deck as the 
steamer drew up to the dock, would she have been glad, or 
sorry? Who knows? 

The next Monday morning, when the mail came down 
from the city, she took up the “Alta” to glance over the 
news. Then she hurriedly dropped it, turned pale, and 
hastened to her room. Mrs. Harrold picked up the paper, 
and looked it over to see what affected her so, but could 
find nothing. But she read listlessly the following item : — 

* The Rev. Mark Forrest, just arrived per steamer from China, 
preached yesterday in the Free Presbyterian church, on the Ethnic 
Religions as related to Christianity.” 

Laying down the paper, she merely remarked, — 

“ I do not see any thing here that concerns Margaret.” 


ADRIFT. 


229 


XXIII. 

ADRIFT. 

I T was in the year 1864 when Mr. Forrest left Blufifton. 

If I cannot be engaged in the cure of souls, at least 
I can in the care of bodies,” said he to himself ; and thus 
saying, he threw all his energy into the work of the Sanitary 
Commission in the South-West. Through his experiences 
here we shall not care to follow him. We only need to know, 
that, in his present mood of mind, he did not care to spare 
himself*, and that, if any was to do dangerous work, or oc- 
cupy a dangerous post, he rather sought than shunned the 
opportunity. He was too manly to seek death ; and yet he 
was compelled to confess to himself that he did not care to 
flee from it. If it came in the way of duty, he would wel- 
come it as a friend. He had been trained as a minister, and 
all his tastes ran that way. And yet an impassable wall 
seemed to shut him out from any farther progress in that 
direction. And, even if a way had been open, it seemed 
to him he could not walk it without the face of Margaret 
Hartley by his side. Sometimes he would have moments of 
anger at her apparent coldness during their last interview ; 
and yet he held her in too high respect to believe she was 
capable of caprice. 


230 


BLUFFTON. 


“Whether I understand her or not, or agree with her or 
not,” he would think, “ I know she is incapable of giving any 
one causeless pain. She did only what she thought was 
duty.” 

So he could not invent even a poor excuse for either anger 
or hate. She still nestled in his heart, the one fair image of 
the only woman he had ever loved. But this image was 
only a memory, sinking farther and farther down the horizon 
of the past, — a setting and not a rising star : so he had not 
even the inspiration of hope. At least, however, he could 
help the wounded, and \vrite out the last love-messages of 
the dying. To this best comfort for a hopeless sorrow, — 
the consolation of helping bear the burden of another, — 
he now devoted himself. 

He followed the march of Sherman to the sea. Thence 
he came North to assist in the last battles and marches, and 
see the sword of Lee given into the persistent hand of 
Grant. But when the last shout of triumph went up, and 
the war was over, he again found himself with nothing to do, 
and his heart only sorer with its still unhealed hurt. Going 
on to New York, he sat down and wrote Tom : — 


New York, 186-. 

Dear Tom, — The war is over, and I can be of no more service 
here. Nothing opens to me as yet; and, even if it did, I am now fit 
for nothing. I shall recover my balance some day, and be man enough 
to pick up some life-work, and pay the world for my standing-room and 
the lunch I get from the common cupboard. But meanwhile I am 
off, — nobody knows where, and nobody cares ; least of all, myself. 
In a couple of weeks I shall sail for Europe ; and then go nowhere in 
particular and everywhere in general. I am going to attempt the im- 


ADRIFT. 


231 


* possible, — to get away from my shadow. The effort will amuse me, 
if nothing else ; and I may stumble on to experiences and information 
that will be of service to me — when I come to myself. I shall be 
hard to keep track of after I am aflight ; and you may not often hit me 
with your letters. But let me hear from you once more before I sail. 
I need not tell you what I most care to know. 

Not quite myself, but always the same to my old friend, 

Mark. 

The answer soon came. 


Maple City, 186-. 

My dear Old Fellow, — You’re not the man I take you for, 
Mark, if you allow any woman that lives to crush the heart out of you. 
Remember, “ there’s good fish in the sea as ever was caught.” And 
yet I suppose it’s hard for me to sympathize with you. My wife — 
God bless her ! — was stupid and prosaic enough to fall right into my 
arms in the most natural way in the world : so that I haven’t any 
romantic and heart-breaking experience by which I can interpret yours. 
They say, “ The course of true love never did run smooth ; ” but mine 
runs so smoothly, that, if the proverb is true, there must be some de- 
fect in the quality of my affection. 

But you know, Mark, you have my deepest love and sympathy. 
I’d gladly give up a part of my comfort if I could transfer the title to 
you. Be brave, old fellow, and “ fight it out on this line,” however 
long it takes. 

I’m glad you’re going away ; though, now I’ve known you again, I 
shall be confoundedly lonesome. But it will do you good. So may the 
winds blow you to some harbor where you will find as good as you’ve 
lostl 

The last I heard of Miss Hartley, she was living quietly with, and 
taking care of, the old judge. They say she’s just a trifle sadder, and 
looks worn ; but otherwise I hear of nothing. 

You will be glad to learn the end of your adventure with Miss Smi- 
ley. Hank Tyler, the man I told you she was engaged to before you 


232 


BLUFFTON. 


found her, like the true fellow I thought he was, has married her, and 
they are living in Colorado. She has come into her own and her 
brother’s money ; and “ the days of her mourning are ended.” She 
has your photograph in her chamber ; and, I think, worships you as 
her saint. 

Now Mark, my dear boy, good-by. If in your wanderings you do 
not 

“ Suffer a sea-change 
Into somethmg rich and strange," — 

Keep me posted, as well as you can, of your doings. And, when you 
“ drop anchor,” hoist a signal for 

Your old friend, Tom. 

Beyond the mere curiosity of travel, the thing that most 
interested Mr. Forrest was, naturally, a study of the practical 
phases of the religious life of the countries he visited. Every 
man — lawyer, farmer, artist, doctor, merchant — carries 
about him his own personality and training, and necessa- 
rily sees the world through his own eyes. If he doesn’t 
always “ talk shop,” still it is inevitable that he will see shop 
and feel shop. So, as Mr. Forrest was a minister, he looked 
over the world with a minister’s eyes. The evil of this is 
when the manhood withers into a mere profession, instead 
of wielding the profession as the sculptor handles his chisel. 

He had run through France and Spain, and stood at last 
in Rome. Here he met an American gentleman. Talking 
over their views of things one day, Mr. Forrest remarked, — 

“ There’s one thing, Mr. Gordon, that strikes a religious 
man strangely j and that is, to observe that these European 
countries that have the most Christianity are the least moral 
and intelligent.” 


ADRIFT. 


233 


“Why, what do you mean?” he asked wth some aston- 
ishment. 

“ I mean what I say. The independent intelligence that 
makes the freedom and civilization of England and Amer- 
ica seems to loosen the grip of the Church, and to tend 
toward individuality and scepticism.” 

“But that which you thus criticise is not Christianity. 
Look at Rome. Do you call this flummery Christianity? 
It is the Roman-Catholic corruption of Christianity,” said 
Mr. Gordon. 

“At least, I think the question has two sides,” replied 
Mr. Forrest. “ You can regard any system of religion as a 
doctrine, or an institution.” 

“ How?” 

“ Why, when we speak of Buddhism, for example, we 
may mean the simple moral teachings of Sakya, or we may 
mean practical Buddhism as it really exists. We judge 
Buddhism by the effects of the system as it actually works 
to-day. Why not treat Christianity in the same fashion ? ” 

“ Well, explain a little more, and perhaps I’ll see what 
you’re after.” 

“So be it. We Protestants — a little minority of Chris- 
tendom — go back and say that Christianity is only the pre- 
cepts Jesus taught. Unitarians go farther yet, and pick out 
the Sermon on the Mount, or the Golden Rule, and say 
‘That’s all there is of Christianity,’ and then denounce the 
Catholic growth of all the Christian centuries as a parasite.” 

“And isn’t it so?” 

“ Is a parasite usually larger than the whole tree ? Is a 


234 


BLUFFTON. 


tree simply the roots, or the total development of those 
roots and the surrounding circumstances? When the 
Church was organized, it was ‘ called Christian at Antioch ; ’ 
and why isn’t the natural result of the growth of seventeen 
centuries to be called Christianity? ” 

“ You think that Roman-Catholicism, then, is true Chris- 
tianity?” 

“ I do not see why not, as truly as the present institutions 
and practices of Buddhism are to be regarded as true 
Buddhism. When we speak of so-called heathen nations, 
we think we treat them fairly by pointing to the life of the 
common people who profess them as illustrating their natural 
effects and value. If we treat Christianity that way, then it 
will fare as hardly as most religions of heathendom ; while, 
if we treat the heathen religions as we want Christianity 
treated, — that is, judge them by the 'best utterances of their' 
highest and purest minds, — we shall find them more nearly 
on a level with our own faith.” 

“ You think Christianity, then, no better than Buddhism,” 
said Mr. Gordon. 

“By no means. But I think they should be treated 
equally ; judged, in both cases, either by their best or their 
worst. And I further think, that, when we speak of what 
Christianity has done for civilization, we ought to remember 
what civilization has done for Christianity. If Christianity 
does it all, why isn’t the Christianity of the Turkish Empire 
up to the level of Boston ? And how does it happen that 
the constituted expounders and defenders of Christianity 
have persistently fought, so long as they could, almost all 


ADRIFT. 


235 


the growing elements and forces that make up modem civ- 
ilization ? ” 

“ But have they?” 

“Please point out an exception. The mling orthodoxy 
never yet originated a new thing for civilization, and never 
accepted it till it had to.” 

“ Holding such views as this, how do you account for the 
fact that religion is always the foundation and bulwark of 
morality, on which all civilization rests?” 

“ I don’t account for it : I deny it. It is so far from the 
tmth, that the leading moral sense of the world is frequently 
in advance of any form of instituted religion. And naturally 
so ; for institutions stand still, or try to, while the moral 
sense of the world is a growth that each new year puts forth 
new leaves. Otherwise there would be no hope of any bet- 
ter future.” 

This conversation is quoted merely as a specimen of one 
of his states of mind, and of the critical spirit with which he 
looked upon society and religion in the lands through which 
he travelled. 

Having visited Egypt, and passed through Palestine, 
he determined to make a tour of the world. So by the 
^uez Canal he made his way to Calcutta. Thence he 
passed to Hong Kong. Making what study he could, or 
cared to, of the life and religions of India and China, he 
took steamer for San Francisco, and, as we have already 
seen, entered the Golden Gate little thinking what eyes 
were watching the ship from the mountain summit far down 
the coast. 


236 


BLUFFTON. 


When in California years before, he had known a Pres- 
byterian minister, at that time strong in his orthodoxy. He 
was surprised and pleased to learn that he had now aban- 
doned his old position, and had established a flourishing 
liberal society, under the title of “ The First Free Presby- 
terian Church of San Francisco.” 

Thinking he would like to go over old times with him, 
trace the growth of his thought, and find how nearly they 
were at one, he called upon him. He found him, not 
fairly sick, but confined to the house, and somewhat 
troubled as to the supply of his pulpit for the next Sunday. 

“ If it was an orthodox church,” said Mr. Brimmer, “ I 
could find a man to preach for me on any street-comer. 
But men that will stand in a free pulpit are rare. Now, you 
must preach for me.” 

‘^But how can I?” said Mr. Forrest. “I haven’t 
preached these three years ; and, besides, I haven’t a sermon.” 

“ Must you have a written one ? ” 

“No. I can talk, after a fashion, if I have any thing to 
say. But the only thing I’ve been thinking of in a religious 
way, of late, is, the characteristic points of the heathen 
religions, and their relations to Christianity.” 

“ But that’s capital. Why won’t you talk on that ? 
Nothing would suit my people better.” 

“ Well, if it vail help you out. I’ll try it.” 

And so the next Sunday he stood once more in the pul- 
pit. But how were all things changed ! His old friends 
thought he had given up all. He felt that he had gained 
all. God was no more an exclusive God, and religion no 


ADRIFT. 


237 


longer a petty squabble of sects. The universe was his 
Bible ; of which the old Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, 
still dear and sacred, were, after all, only chapters. 

He announced as his subject, “The Natural Develop- 
ment of Religions.” As a part of his lesson, he read “ The 
Problem ” of Emerson ; and he gave special emphasis to the 
words, — 

“ Not from a vain or shallow thought 
His awful Jove young Phidias brought; 

Never from lips of cunning fell 
The thrilling Delphic oracle : 

Out of the heart of Nature rolled 
The burdens of the Bible old ; 

The litanies of nations came, 

Like the volcano’s tongue of flame^ 

Up from the burning core below. — 

The temples as grows the grass. 

The word unto the prophet spoken 
Was writ on tables yet unbroken. 

One accent of the Holy Ghost 
The heedless world hath never lost.” 

Then he developed the idea, that all religions are the nat- 
ural growth of the religious nature of man : that no one 
is supreme above all others by virtue of any supernatural 
pre-eminence ; but, if it be supreme at all, it is so only as 
one man or one nation suijDasses another, or as one tree 
overtops all others in a forest. 

And, as he looked over the report in the “Alta” the next 
morning, what would he not have given to know what other 
eyes had been startled by his simple thought, and then in 
secret been blinded by tears ! 


238 


BLUFFTON. 


XXIV. 

A STRANGE MEETESTG. 

M r. HARROLD and the Rev. Mr. Brimmer were inti- 
mate friends. They were frequently together, both in 
town and at the country-seat of the former. 

So on Monday, when Mr. Forrest called on his friend to 
see how he was getting on, and after they had talked a while 
on general topics, Mr. Brimmer said, — 

“Are you tied up with any engagements this week ? ” 
“No,” he replied: “unfortunately I am not tied up to 
anything these days. I am the Wandering Jew ; and my 
only limitation is, that I shall not keep still anywhere for 
long.” 

“ When you were on the coast before, did you know any 
thing of the San Jose Valley?” 

“I have only passed tln-ough it hurriedly; but I saw 
enough to learn that it’s a paradise.” 

“ Well, then, I’ve a pleasant day for you, if you like.” 

“ Why, what is up ? ” 

“ You see, Harrold, one of our leading bankers, has the 
perfection of a lovely villa down the bay. He’s an old friend 
of mine; and on Thursday — I’ll be out by that time — a 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


239 


party of friends is going down to his place for the afternoon. 
I am at liberty to take any one along I please. Wouldn’t 
you like to go ? ” 

“ What’s to be done ? and who’s to be there ? ” 

“ Oh ! it will be only a quiet knot of right pleasant people, 
ladies and gentlemen. And there will be bowling and bil- 
liards and croquet and walks and drives, — if any one 
pleases, — and lounging under the trees. The only law is, 
that you must do just as you’ve a mind to, make yourself at 
home, and be happy.” 

“Well, that’s a pleasant programme. I think I’ll join 
you.” 

So it was arranged. Thus the great world swings round, 
wantonly flinging us apart, and as wantonly tossing us near 
again ; as the wind scatters and then piles up the autumn 
leaves. 

Meanwhile Mr. Forrest received his mail from the East, 
and in it a short note from his old friend Mr. Winthrop. 
And while he reads we will look over his shoulder, and copy 
one brief extract. 

“If it has not already come to hand, you will very soon receive 
a letter from New York, that will be worthy of your most serious 
attention. A party of wealthy and intelligent gentlemen in that city, 
having become dissatisfied with the existing churches, have determined 
to form a religious society that shall be fearless enough to face the 
light, and competent to deal with the living movements of the age. 

“ They have every thing for immediate organization, except a minis- 
ter. They have heard of you, and the battle you fought out here. It 
so happened that the leading one of their number is a business ac- 
quaintance of mine ; and, finding that you and I were old chums, he has 


240 


BLUFFTON. 


written me about you. Knowing my love for you, and my admiration 
for your course, you will readily understand what sort of character 
I have given you. I have also hinted to him, that your fitness for such 
a task will be very largely enhanced by your journey, observation, and 
study. 

“ As soon as I received your last letter, and learned the probable 
date of your arrival in San Francisco, I sent him notice at once. And 
now I have just gotten word that a letter was sent to you last week, 
inviting you, as soon as you would consent, to come East, and take 
charge of their new movement. 

“ Now, my dear fellow, don’t say no.” 

“ Here at last, then,” said he, “ is a door open. And 
perhaps it is open soon enough. I have learned much in 
my wanderings. And besides that, by the struggle and 
sorrow I have gone through, I have learned that it is no 
quick and easy- thing to slip out of an old faith, and slip into 
a new. So, instead of being hard and impatient toward 
those just learning to walk after wearing shackles for years, 
I trust I shall be tender and helpful in my rationalism.” 

The next day came the letter from New York, which he 
read and pondered well, and determined to accept. But 
how his heart still ached with the memory of the past ! He 
was not a man to be crushed by it. He would fling it off, 
and do a man’s work, though with sadness in his soul. 
“Fling it off?” No: it would not be flung off. Neither 
did he really desire that. It was the sunniest spot in all 
his history. And he would remember it, though now and 
henceforth he walked under a cloud. But he would treasure 
it in the sacred privacy of his soul, and walk his way alone. 
So perhaps he would be less trammelled in his work. At 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


241 


any rate, whether it were well or ill, no present face, how- 
ever fair, could for a moment seduce him from his tender 
loyalty to the remembered image. 

On Thursday a large party gathered at the depot, and 
took special train for Mr. Harrold’s villa. He was surprised 
to see so many. 

“ Why, Brimmer,” said he, “ I didn’t suppose the whole 
to^vn was going.” 

“ Oh, this is nothing unusual ! It is often many hundreds 
that make such a party. The grounds are so large, and the 
accommodations so ample, that there will seem to be no 
crowd. These men think nothing of spending a few thou- 
sands in this way on an afternoon. They charter a special 
train, and take a caterer from the city.” 

“ At any rate, one will have a better chance to be alone, 
if he chooses. A crowd, next to the forest, is the place for 
solitude.” 

“But have I told you, Forrest, the occasion of this 
party?” 

“ I don’t remember that you have.” 

“ Well, then, get ready for a vision of loveliness. It’s all 
in honor of a wonderful beauty that is visiting Harrold from 
the States, — daughter of an old schoolmate of his, or some- 
thing of the sort. It is lucky for me that I’m married. 
But you, old fellow, may be in danger.” * 

“ I’m past all that,” said he with an air of careless gayety ; 
though he meant it with a sad emphasis down in his heart. 

Meantime the cars were rushing down the valley, reveal- 
ing, on either hand, glimpses of mountain and bay, of oak- 


242 


BLUFFTON. 


grove and orchard, lovely nooks in the foot-hills, and villages 
across the water. 

The most of the party were old acquaintances, and had 
been there before. So, when they reached the villa, without 
any formality they scattered rapidly over the grounds, each 
following the bent of his or her own fancy. 

Mr. Forrest and Mr. Brimmer amused themselves a while 
in the billiard-room, and then strolled through the walks, 
and up in the tower that overlooked the place. 

“ Let’s sit here, and talk a bit,” said Mr. Forrest. “ This 
must be a lovely way to live.” 

“ Yes, when a man has made his pile. We ministers are 
in no special danger of doing that, I take it.” 

“ No : I’ve never heard of ministers getting rich off their 
salaries. Tihey sometimes marry a fortune, though they do 
preach that money is the root of all evil.” 

“Bah!” exclaimed Mr. Brimmer, “what a humbug all 
that trash is ! Everybody knows money makes civilization. 
In the first ages there was some sense in the common talk 
about worldliness, and the separation of saints and sinners. 
But with the passing-away of paganism, and the growth of 
our modern life, there’s no excuse for it. It’s pretty hard 
to tell sometimes, whether there is more \vorldliness in the 
Church, or more godliness in the world. 

“But what’s the matter, Forrest? you look pale. You 
don’t faint, do you?” 

Mr. Forrest did not answer, for he did not hear. He sat 
utterly lost and confounded at what he saw. 

Mr. Brimmer looked in the direction in which he was 


A STRANGE MEETING. 


243 


Staring, and saw nothing more wonderful than a party of 
half a dozen people coming up the pathway toward the 
tower. 

“Why don’t you speak, Forrest? ’’ exclaimed Mr. Brimmer. 
“ Did you never see a group of people before ? Why, that 
must be the stranger. But she ts handsome though, isn’t 
she?” 

“Brimmer,” exclaimed Mr. Forrest excitedly, springing 
to his feet, “ I can’t bear to meet /ler here. She’s coming 
up the tower.” 

“.Well, why not? I suppose you’ve met women before 
in your travels round the globe.” 

“Yes, and I’ve met her before; and that is why I 
can’t.” 

But before he could explain, and find a way of escape, 
the party appeared, headed by Mr. Harrold. He grasped 
Mr. Brimmer by the hand, who then introduced him to Mr. 
Forrest. By this time all were up the stairs. The eyes of 
the two old-time lovers met. Margaret grew very white, 
and grasped the rail to support herself ; and, as they were 
introduced, faltered out, addressing Mr. Harrold, — 

“ Yes, we have met before — at the East.” 

The friends noticed how strange and forced the greeting 
was, but were too courteous to mark it, and so make it more 
embarrassing. So, though they wondered what it meant, 
they tried to have all trace of it forgotten. After they had 
looked about a little, Mr. Harrold said, — 

“ Come, the whole party is going for a walk up the foot- 
hills. Let’s join them.” 


244 


BLUFFTON. 


Though it was torture for Mr. Forrest to be so near Miss 
Hartley, and not be able to ask her a thousand questions, — 
of past, of present, how she came here, and of other things 
more personal still, — and though he knew it must be equal- 
ly hard for her, there seemed to be no way of escape. 

As the merry company climbed the easy slope, and broke 
out at every fresh resting-place into new exclamations of 
delight at the widening view of the valley, the beauty of 
the shadows flitting in endless panorama over the sides and 
tops of the farther mountains, or the lengthening reach of 
bay with here and there the white of a sail, Mr. Forrest 
spoke in an undertone to Miss Hartley, and said, — 

“ For God’s sake. Miss Hartley, don’t say No. I must 
speak with you a moment.” 

“ But how, here ? ” she replied. 

“The company is gay and absorbed. They’ll not miss 
us. May we not fall behind for a little? ” 

So, excusing herself to Mr. Harrold, she walked more 
slowly, and let the party precede her up the mountain. 

“ Here,” said Mr. Forrest, “ they’re lost in the trees. 
May we not sit down under this oak? ” 

Though much constrained at first, they were soon speak- 
ing of the past in at least the tone of their old-time friend- 
ship. Mr. Forrest could not help noting how her eyes 
brightened, and the color came and went in her face, and 
that she seemed glad to be in his company once more. 
His heart leaped up with hope again ; though he hardly 
dared ask what changes the years had brought, or whether 
the flight of time had left her free. 


A STRANGE MEETING. 245 

“ Miss Hartley,” said he, “ am I forgiven beforehand for 
asking what perhaps I have no right to ask? ” 

“ You have a right to ask all things you will.” 

“ Has any other, then, gained the heaven from which I 
was cast out? ” 

“Mr. Forrest, did you once believe I loved you?” 

“ I did believe ; and that one trust is the sunny spot in a 
life all dark beside.” 

“ I do not think it is in me to love but once,” she quietly 
repUed. 

He sprang to his feet, as he exclaimed, — 

“Then, Madge, you” — 

Just then she rose, laid her hand upon his arm, and 
said, — 

“See, they are returning down the hill. We must join 
them.” 

But so changed was he in heart and appearance, that Mr. 
Brimmer exclaimed to him, as they linked arms, and the rest 
of the party sauntered on in irregular groups, — 

“ Why, Forrest, you look as if you’d seen a vision on the 
mountain. I don’t think Moses’ face shone brighter than 
yours.” 

“ Banter away, old fellow. I can stand it now, for I have 
seen a vision.” 

“ Have the astrologers and soothsayers of your court wis- 
dom enough to interpret it ? ” said he. “ If not, perhaps 
you’d better bring it to me for light.” 

“I think I can guess it. Nevertheless I think you can 
help me. I must stay here to-night.” 


246 


BLUFFTON. 


“Well, here’s an adventure. Is it about the beauty? I 
think I can fix it, whatever it is.” 

Mr. Forrest then told him his whole story ; to which he 
listened as though it were a chapter out of a new novel. 
When he was done, he exclaimed, — 

“But this is a queer old world. How things do come 
about ! To run away round the world from a broken ring, 
and find it ready to be mended again, on the other side 
the globe ! 

“ It’s lucky I happened along. I am perfectly at home 
with Harrold. We’ll both stay down to-night, and you shall 
have your opporunity. But she’s a beauty though, Forrest. 
And here I am a minister. Lucky all round ! Why, I’ll 
marry you for half a price.” 

Mr. Brimmer seemed as happy for his friend as he did 
for himself. 

The party returned to the city, and evening came. Mr. 
Brimmer explained affairs to Mr. Harrold ; and so the two 
found themselves at liberty to be alone. As the sun set, and 
twilight came on, they went for a walk through the grounds, 
and entered an arbor overhung with grape-vines. 

“ O Madge ! ” he cried, “ the horror of these three endless 
years ! ” 

As he spoke, her own three years of waiting and heart- 
hunger crowded, a dismal procession, through her brain. 
She glanced up at his face ; and then, as if fleeing from the 
pursuing phantoms of the past, with one word, — “ Mark ! ” 
— half spoken, half sobbed, she rushed into his arms, and 
was folded close to his heart. He lifted her face towards his 


A STRANGE MEETING. 247 

with one hand, while he clasped her with the other, and 
fairly rained his kisses on forehead, eyelid, and lips. 

“But let us be glad, Madge,” said he at last: “this 
crowning happiness pays for it all.” 

“ O Mark, if you only knew what it cost me to even seem 
to be cruel to you ! ” 

“It was an awful dream,” said he; “but now we are 
awake and in heaven. Let us sit down and talk. 

“ And now, Madge,” he continued, “ though you are in 
my arms once more, and it would kill me to lose you again, 
I dare not ask you to lay your hand in mine, until I tell you 
what I am, and the path of life that is opening before me. 
I have wandered and studied and suffered, — as you know,” 
said he, in a lower tone, — “ since that dreadful night at 
Bluffton. But, religiously, I am only more and more con- 
vinced that God is the God of the whole earth, and of all 
religions. If I work again, it must be as one absolutely free 
to find God’s truth any and every where, and speak it in all 
simplicity, but in all fearlessness.” 

“And I,” she replied, “have greatly changed. I have 
tried to read and study, these years, and think I understand 
you now. You know through what a bitter struggle I clung 
to father and what I thought was duty. I’m thankful now 
that I was strong enough to suffer, and not to break his 
heart. But now he may look upon it as he was too old to 
look upon it here.” 

“ I have just received this letter from New York.” And 
here he unfolded and read it all aloud. “ You see,” he con- 
tinued, “ it is to be on the broadest basis. We shall not put 


248 


BLUFFTON. 


in our creed any thing we do not know. It will be a church 
of and for this world, which is God’s world. We shall only 
try to make men and women noble here ; to build up and 
purify society ; to build God’s kingdom out of solid truths, on 
solid ground. We shall trust the future to Him who alone 
knows any thing about it. We shall have faiths and hopes 
and sentiments and poetry ; but we shall try and remember 
that they are such, and not make our guesses and imagina- 
tions and wishes into sharp stones with which to strew the 
path of life, and make the feet bleed that travel over them. 

“ Can you find, Madge, any thing in a work like this, to 
engage your head, and enlist your heart?” 

Saying which, he reached out toward her his hand. In 
this strong hand she quietly laid her own, as she replied, — 

“ In the dear old Bible story that mother read to me as 
a child, you have my answer : ‘ Whither thou goest I will 
go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy people shall 
be my people, and thy God my God.’ ” 

He drew her head down upon his shoulder, just as the 
yellow moon came up, looking through the vines, and shed- 
ding her tender benediction upon their happy love. 


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